Death's Charm
by Zlo1313
Summary: "Fall not for the Reaper's charm, or else your soul shall come to harm." (rhyme courtesy of CJM). The life and fate of Lord Death's wife.
1. Prologue

**Yeah, shaking things up here! Instead of Death Note, I'm giving Soul Eater a try now! This is my theory about Lord Death's wife: what happened to her and how the two met, etc. I'd really appreciate it if everyone who reads the prologue review and tell me what you think (just no flames, please). Please and thank you!**

**I do not own Soul Eater!**

* * *

Death was not kind. He was not merciful, there was no love in his heart, and he viewed humans as weak creatures burdening him. The only reason why he put up with them at all was because it was his duty. He was Order. He was Law. He was their Judge, their Jury, and their Executioner. He ignored humans who did not stray from the path he had made for them, but those who did stray, found their last sight to be of his menacing mask and his scythe tearing through their bodies.

Yes, Death was many things to humans. He could be their greatest enemy or their best friend. The prior was far more common than the latter. When they saw him, they fled, they pleaded, but their earthly possessions meant nothing to him. He wanted their souls; the one thing they were not willing to give away.

Which was why the young woman startled him. He recalled seeing her once, but viewed her as nothing more than another insect plaguing his world. Death did not pay attention to her. He was in her town to retrieve the soul of a dying child. The town was silent, as was customary when Death arrived in any town. The people ran and hid and prayed it was not their soul he had come to reap. Yet, this woman still traipsed the streets, her long skirt dragging in the dirt beneath her feet. His path happened to be parallel to hers and he glided toward her, studying her. She had shoulder length, wavy, dark brown hair she was wearing down. Tucked behind her left ear was a flower with white petals. Her face still held traces of baby fat, making him think she wasn't any older than seventeen. He would have gone as far as to say she was pretty had he actually cared about something as pointless as that.

She kept her blue eyes straight ahead like she couldn't see him and he was almost angry at her blatant disrespect of his presence. He wanted to take her soul just for the hell of it, but held back. Death did not take the souls of the living if they had not strayed from the path. They were side by side and when he was just a little ways past her, he heard her speak.

"Good afternoon, Death." Her voice was soft, timid almost, but carried some authority in it that it made him turn to look at her.

She was facing him and bowed her head respectfully. "I hope you have a nice day." And then she was on her way again.

Death watched her until she disappeared down another street. It was the first time anyone had wished him something positive. Behind his mask, he rose an eyebrow and continued on his way, coming to the child's house. When he exited the house, the little blue soul clutched in his hand, the woman was gone.

Now, it was her soul he was after. Like the last time he had been in her town, she was the only human outside still. He saw panicked faces peeking through the windows, watching him. He paid them no mind and glided purposefully over to her. She was looking at a bouquet of flowers, roses to be specific. The only roses, though, were black and white, the white dried up like it had been denied water. She grabbed an armful and buried her face in the petals.

"I love roses. It's a shame the black and white ones have such a negative reception, though. They're associated with death and grief." She looked pointedly at him.

He didn't say anything and she continued, "When I die, I don't want roses, though. I want moonflowers. They symbolize dreaming of love, you know."

He didn't know that and he didn't care. Love was an emotion he was above. It was weak. Death pointed his large clawed hand at her. "Ophelia Thioren. I have come for your soul."

The woman, Ophelia, looked at him, her head tilted to the side. "Why do you wear that mask? And why the scary voice?"

"I am Death." He said obviously. She rolled her eyes.

"I _know_ that, but death doesn't have to be a scary thing. I think it's beautiful. But, I'm sure I'm boring you, so go ahead. Take my soul." She smiled placidly at him.

What was wrong with this woman? Was she not afraid of him? He lifted up his scythe. Her smile didn't waver. He hesitated and found himself unable to do it. He lowered his scythe again and turned around without another word.

"Mr. Death? Weren't you going to take my soul?" She called. She sounded confused.

Death paused. "...No. You are not on my list. I have the wrong human."

He disappeared, thinking he wouldn't see the woman until it was her time to die. Looking back now, he wished he had taken her soul the first time. Not even he could have foreseen the consequences of his unwillingness.


	2. I've Come For Your Soul

**Raylean-Ann-Bowie: Thank you!**

**theotakuprincessofgotham: Oh, yes, I definitely plan on continuing this!**

**Confetti108: I hate the stories where Lord Death falls dramatically in love. T.T He can be a dramatic character, but that's a bit overboard**

**OPA26: Glad you find it interesting so far**

**Sorry it took me so long, I was kind of struggling with this chapter. I already have the next chapter written up, but it needs to be tweaked. Let me know if you think this one could be improved as well!**

**I do not own Soul Eater!**

* * *

Death looked around slowly. "Where did you go?"

He thought he could hear the witch and he focused on pinpointing her wavelength. It was a tactic he was just starting to get used to. He looked at his warriors, noticing Asura was no longer there. He heard a screech and they took off in the direction of the horrible sound.

The purple soul of a witch was on the ground, twitching. Asura was clutching his weapon partner tightly with one hand while the other was by his mouth. He was chewing his fingernails again. Death went over to him.

"Excellent work, Asura." He praised, placing a friendly hand on his apprentice's shoulder.

"Thank you, sir." Asura's voice came out muffled from the dozens of scarfs he had wrapped around his head.

Asura was strange, but Death trusted him with his life. He had grown up with him and Eibon, being a couple hundred years older than the two of them. He turned to his warriors.

"Go back. I still have business to attend to." He commanded.

They bowed and disappeared, leaving him in the dark forest. The sky was painted blood red, the moon leering abhorrently down at him. He liked the moon, with its bloody mouth. It put him in the mood for reaping the souls of sinners. He looked to his list and his eyes narrowed. The top name was "Ophelia Thioren."

This time for sure. He headed back to the town and was mildly surprised he didn't find her wandering the streets like the last two times. He caught the townspeople by surprise and watched them in amusement as they scrambled to the nearest buildings, locking the doors behind them. He looked around, determining her house, and spotted it with ease. It was the only house with a garden full of flowers. He walked through the gate and grabbed the doorknob, turning it. It was unlocked.

The house was open and airy, light filtering in from the number of windows. The air in the house was sweet smelling, the scents of different species of flowers lingering together. Like the outside, there were flowers all over the place. Death squinted his eyes, unused to the light. How did she get it to be so light in here?

"I'm in the kitchen!" She called, not knowing who her guest was.

He moved into the kitchen and paused in the doorway, casting a shadow across her. Ophelia turned around and smiled.

"Hello, Death. What are you here for today?" Her tone was teasing.

"I have come for your soul." He said.

Her smile widened. "Alright. Go ahead and take it."

Death pulled out his scythe and leveled it with her throat. She stood there patiently, eyes on his mask. He imagined ripping through her wispy body, leaving behind her light blue soul. His arm twitched, but otherwise didn't move.

"Well? Aren't you going to take it?" She asked, her smile beginning to fall. She was as confused as he was.

He growled and she visibly flinched from the grating sound. "Of course I'm going to take it!"

Ophelia looked up at him and tilted her head to the side. "...Well, if you aren't going to take my soul...would you like a slice of pie?"

Death lowered his scythe and stared at her, puzzled. "What?"

"Or, do you not eat? I don't know much about gods, except, you know, they're immortal." She smiled sheepishly.

"We're not immortal." He replied automatically.

"Huh? You die?"

He put his scythe away. "In a way, we are immortal. We'll live forever as long as we don't die in battle. However, we do not get ill. We can eat, but I see no need to consume human food."

Why was he telling her all this? He abruptly turned around and began to leave. "Mr. Death, what about my soul?"

"Wrong human." He called back, leaving her house.

* * *

The next day he did the same thing. She was kneeling in her garden, carefully getting rid of weeds, the sleeves of her dress rolled past her bony elbows. Her skirt was dirty and she had a smudge of dirt on her face, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Ophelia Thioren, I am here for your soul."

She didn't turn around and Death tilted his head in confusion. He repeated himself louder and got the same result. With a small snarl, he pulled out his scythe and placed the blade against the back of her neck. She stopped and slowly turned around.

"Wow, you're impatient, aren't you?" She asked nonchalantly.

"I do not like to be ignored." He stated, keeping the blade against her neck.

"Naturally." She winced when he dug the tip in, a thin line of blood blooming. He stared at it hungrily.

"Well, I won't stop you."

Death blinked and looked at her. She was staring evenly at him. He pulled his scythe away. "Why are you not afraid of death?"

"Like I said, it's a beautiful thing. It's life I am afraid of." She said the last part so softly, he almost didn't hear it.

"You are a strange human." She shrugged and turned back to her garden.

He watched her for a few minutes. She carefully dug the earth around the weeds and plucked them out of the dirt, tossing them in a neat pile off to her right. She did it methodically without a moment of hesitation.

"Why do you pull the weeds out that way?" He queried after she uprooted the fifth weed.

Ophelia paused and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Weeds have feelings like flowers do. It's a shame. If they didn't harm my flowers, I wouldn't mind them."

Death furrowed his brow. "Plants do not have feelings."

She turned around and looked at him like he had said something obscene. "Sure they do! They also respond positively to soft music."

He shook his head at her and repeated himself. "Strange human, indeed."

She smiled. "That may be, but with all due respect, Mr. Death, I am not the one tarrying with a condemned soul."

His eyes narrowed and he wrapped his claw-like hands around her throat tightly.

"If you speak to me like that again I will flay you until all that is left is muscle!"

She didn't seem particularly unruffled, but it was her eyes that led him to believe she was afraid.

She croaked hoarsely, "Forgive me. I do not wish to anger a god."

While he was sure she meant for it to sound condescending, he released her. She landed clumsily on her feet, stumbling back a step or two. He watched her rub her sore neck with disdain.

"You humans are such foolish creatures. You view me as a god. There is no such thing. I am before your time, something beyond your understanding." He spat.

Her cheeks flushed and she crossed her arms childishly across her chest. "You look down on us because you believe we can't comprehend you? You greatly underestimate us."

"I do no such thing. Each time I think humans are intelligent, they do something to prove me wrong. Wars, murder, rape. All done by humans. You are primitive, savage. You've no idea the number of innocent souls I have taken because of someone else's doing." He pointed his scythe at her accusingly.

Ophelia frowned. She rolled down the sleeves of her dress and wiped her hands on her skirt. She walked past him toward the front door of her house. She tossed carelessly over her shoulder, "You don't need to convince me there are some evil humans out there. There is good in the world. You need to look out for it more often."

She closed the door behind her, leaving Death to stand outside in bewilderment. With a snort, he left her yard, walking down the street.

"'Good in the world.' Humans ruin my world, there is no good when they are present." He groused to himself, ignoring the apprehensive glances he was getting by the few souls brave enough to venture out.

As he walked, he tried to convince himself he was right. Yet, he began to notice the people in the town helping each other. He watched a woman purchase an apple for a hungry looking child. A man was fixing a toy for a group of boys. He walked past them, watching the boys' beaming faces as they ran off with their mended toy. He felt an odd twinge, something he had never experienced before, that followed him until he returned to the camp where his warriors were.

"Did you get the soul?" Eibon inquired from where he was seated beneath an oak tree.

Death froze and scowled. "Dammit. I got sidetracked."


	3. The First Kishin Arises

**CJM- No, that works, too! Thanks, I'll use your rhyme instead (and give you the credit of course).**

**TheAUWalker- Thank you ^^**

**Confetti108- Thanks, I really like Ophelia, too =) She's fun to write**

**Imaginefun- That's alright, and I'm glad you think this one is going to be good, too!**

**I'm happy this is getting such a positive response ^^ I know a lot of people don't like OCs (myself kind of included as long as they are well developed), so thank you to those who are giving the story a chance!**

**I do not own Soul Eater, only Ophelia!**

* * *

"You know, you've been doing this for three weeks now." She placed a cup of tea in front of him.

He pointed his scythe at her throat threateningly. "Are you patronizing me?"

She gently nudged the scythe away from her. "No, not at all. I'm just wondering how come you haven't taken my soul yet."

He didn't know why. It seemed every time he tried, he couldn't bring himself to slice through her body. Her name was beginning to fade off his list. He didn't know what that meant, but he doubted it was a good sign.

"I told you, wrong human."

She rolled her eyes and planted her hands on her hips. "Death doesn't make mistakes, especially twenty one times. And then, you hang around here drinking tea and asking me about my flowers."

Death huffed indignantly and stood up. "Why do you want your soul to be taken? Humans don't want to die."

"Not this human." Ophelia pointed to herself.

He blinked. "Why?"

She sat down and looked at her hands. She shrugged. "It just seems...interesting. What is there after life?"

He could tell she was lying, but decided not to call her out on it. She looked at him expectantly. Surprised, Death shrugged. "Even I don't know. I only collect the souls."

"Oh." She seemed somewhat disappointed with his answer.

Death shook his head. What was he doing here, sitting and speaking to this human? He had much more important things to do than listen to a silly human. Like hunting down that damned Arachne. He had been so close to finding her after a fairly quick battle, but she disappeared. In fact, now that he thought about it, her soul wavelength had completely disappeared. He could only assume one of the witches finally caught her. Well, at least it made his job a lot easier, only issue now was dealing with all the weapons she had created. None of the ones he had met were malevolent, resulting in them keeping their lives, and most of them were only able to work with a meister, like Vajra. It would be burdensome to find them all meisters so they could work properly, not to mention finding them a purpose. He supposed they could live normal lives, but doubted some would be keen on the idea.

"Mr. Death?" He looked at her.

"Just call me Death. It's ridiculous that you add an honorific in front of my name." He said with distaste.

Her face flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry. What do you look like behind that mask?"

The question shouldn't have surprised him, but he cringed nonetheless. "Nothing."

Her brow crinkled. "'Nothing?' That isn't an answer. Are you just a blob beneath your cloak and mask? There's nothing human at all?"

"Of course not!" He snapped and backed away. Speaking about humans was suddenly a touchy subject for him. Especially since he began to notice the good in humans. It brought out an uncomfortable sensation he had yet been able to identify, all he knew it was something he hadn't felt in a long time.

"But-" He silenced her with a cuff to the back of the head.

"If you don't stop asking me questions, I'm going to split your head open!" He warned.

Ophelia rubbed her now sore head head and glared at him. "Don't you think you should have warned me before you hit me?"

Death rolled his eyes and turned his back on her. "I've more important things to do than speak with you. I will return tomorrow for your soul."

He always parted the same way, confused and a little frustrated, and she always answered the same way. "Alright, Death. I'll be sure to prepare myself for Elysium."

He left her house, ignoring the townspeople backing away from him cautiously. Despite his constant presence, they had yet adjusted to him. It didn't necessarily bother him, but he did find it to be annoying. When he got to the outskirts of the town, he sensed a familiar wavelength. It was hiding behind a tree at the beginning of the forest. He paused in the road and turned his head to look at the tree. Eibon stepped out from behind the tree, his robes rustling with the movement.

"How long have you been there?" Death asked.

"Not too long. Death, why have you not taken that human's soul?" Eibon joined him by his side and the two continued to walk.

Death felt a small twinge of dismay. He had been hoping Eibon would know. After all, Eibon seemed to know everything. "I am not sure. Every time I try, I can't. It's almost like she's a witch."

"She is only a human. You would not show mercy to a witch just as you have never shown mercy to a human. Death, your lack of action against her will have dire consequences."

"Like what?" He couldn't keep the challenging tone out of his voice.

Eibon paused. "Humans, without exception, must die. You are Order, you know this. They are not meant to live forever; they are very fragile creatures. They can only slightly comprehend our existence."

"You think I don't know that?" Death grumbled.

Eibon continued, ignoring Death's interruption, "If one human does not die, the balance is tilted. Not to mention...the psychological effects."

Death looked at his old friend curiously. "'Psychological effects?'"

"Yes. A human who lives longer than intended, for the sake of a hypothesis, let us say...three hundred years. Currently, humans live to be about forty three years old. They, if they are fortunate, do not witness the deaths of all they cared about. On the other hand, a human who lives three hundred years, would watch every person he or she ever cared about and then some. Do you follow where I am going with this?" Though he could not see the wizard's face, he felt his sharp gaze on his mask.

"They would succumb to madness through their grief." Death finished for him.

Eibon nodded. "That is correct. This human, Ophelia Thioren, is fading from your list. When her name disappears completely, she will be similar to a death god. She will be immortal, in a sense. Or, so is my hypothesis. I have no definitive theory about this as I don't recall a time it had ever happened before. Your father, Shi, was not merciful toward humans nor did he ever make exceptions."

Another emotion settled over his dismay like a blanket. Disappointment. No, he was definitely unlike his predecessor. Even now, nearly one and a half centuries after Shi's demise, Death could still feel his foreboding soul wavelengths, bathing the earth with their hateful nature.

"Is this why you have seeked me out, Eibon; to tell me what I already know?" He murmured.

"Yes...and no. I have concerns about Asura." Death looked at him.

"What concerns?"

"His erratic behavior, for one thing. Vajra has also disappeared, which is peculiar. Asura never lets him out of his sight. Also, his wavelengths are...different." He could almost see Eibon frowning behind his mask.

"Do you think he is straying from the path?" Death prompted. It would be a shame if he was.

"It is only a fear of mine, but yes. I think he is on the way of becoming the first Kishin. Death, you know what we must do. I know he is your apprentice and you hold him in high regard, but-"

"My feelings are meaningless." Death cut him off. Eibon looked at him. "If he is straying form the path, he must be put down. I will keep your concerns in mind. Have Black Mass follow him; see if he can find Vajra."

Eibon nodded. "Yes."

The two froze when they suddenly felt an overwhelming wavelength. Death had never felt anything so potent and for minute, had trouble identifying it. It was distorted, but one wavelength washed over him that felt recognizable.

"It seems my concerns have been reported too late." Eibon said regretfully.

Death ignored him and ordered, "Gather the others."

Eibon disappeared and Death rushed toward the wavelength. It was coming from Ophelia's town and he paused at the top of the hill overlooking the town. His eyes widened.

"Oh, no." The town was desecrated, leveled by an unseen entity. What remaining houses were left were smoldering, thick black plumes billowing up into the sky, darkening it. Even from where he was standing, Death could hear the painful cries and moans. The very human feeling of loss startled him, but he put it out of his mind. He needed to help the survivors.

He couldn't wait for his warriors; they wouldn't get there in time. Death hurried to the town, looking for any survivors. He spotted a woman and a child and gently pushed them in the direction of the forest, the air thick with the smoke.

"Get to the forest and hide." He said, ignoring the woman's frightful gaze.

He headed toward Ophelia's house and stopped. It was ablaze, the flames making quick work of her flowers. He felt a pang and looked at his list. Her name was gone. He didn't know what that meant. He was about to turn away, thinking she was destroyed when he felt a pulse of her wavelength. Then, he heard coughing coming from inside the house. Death rushed inside, knocking the door off its hinges, squinting his eyes. The fire roared and he yelled, "Where are you?"

Another cough, weaker than the last, was barely heard over the flames. He followed the little spurts of wavelengths past her living room and into the kitchen. It hadn't been touched by the fire yet, but it would be alight in a few more moments. Death looked around wildly, unable to see her in the smoke.

"Ophelia!" He bellowed. Another wavelength and he turned.

Ophelia was tucked away in a corner, her face buried in the skirt of her dress. Death approached her and scooped her up. She looked up at him in alarm, her face streaked with soot and tears.

"D-Death? What about my soul?" She asked, her voice hoarse.

"You aren't on my list anymore." He answered, covering her with his cloak. He felt her cling to him and rushed out of the house before it could collapse on them.

Death left the town, removing his cloak from around Ophelia. She hugged his neck tightly, still coughing. He himself could feel the smoke in his lungs, but struggled to refrain from coughing. He wasn't going to show such an undignified response after he just risked his own life to save her. He carried her to the forest where the townspeople were cowering and set her down on the cool grass. An elderly woman dragged her closer to where the others were huddled, hugging her and glaring at him.

"Thank you, Death." Ophelia said, smiling shakily at him. She was still crying.

He paid her thanks no mind and looked at the townspeople before looking at his list. So many of their names were on his list now.

"When I am done dealing with this threat, I will return to collect the souls of the dead and dying. If you are dying, I suggest you pray." He turned and headed back to the town. He could feel the wavelength was still present, hiding amongst the wreckage.

"Death!" Four of his eight warriors ran over to him.

"Where are the others?" He demanded, looking around as though he expected them to pop out.

The Black Mass replied, "Asura devoured their souls. He ate Vajra as well, while he was still in weapon form."

Fury burned inside him and he bellowed, "Asura!"

It only took a moment, but Asura appeared before his former mentor. Instead of cowering like he usually did, however, he was smiling lucidly, his body untensed. He had even removed his scarves, revealing his face. His third eye was narrowed from his smiling and he tugged at the collar of his shirt.

"Hello, Master." He greeted happily.

"You unforgiveable wretch! You have thrown the world out of balance and devoured human souls as well as your allies! This is an act punishable by death." Death pulled out his scythe.

Asura cackled, grinning. "Wouldn't you have done the same? Our existence is enough to drive humans to insanity. You, yourself, have condemned a human to madness! Besides, since when did you care about the human souls you reap?"

Death clenched his scythe tightly in his hands. "I don't care, the only thing I care about is Order. That is what I am in charge of! As a Grim Reaper, it is my responsibility to ensure all humans follow the path of Order and Justice so that the world remain balanced. You, however, have defied this path and single handedly ruined it. Ruined everything my predecessors worked so hard to prevent!"

"This 'order' you continuously preach about. Have you ever truly given a thought about it? You say you are open minded, so think about the possibility that perhaps 'order' is what drives humans to madness. It's certainly what drove me to it." Asura replied, his grin gone.

"No, it was your own cowardice that led you to this point! Kishin Asura, your soul is mine!" Death lunged forward, scythe ready to rip through the first Kishin's body.

"Death, don't!" Eibon's warning came too late.

All Death could focus on was making Asura pay for destroying the balance and Ophelia's flowers.


	4. The End of the Grim Times

**Imaginefun- XD I didn't even realize I made a Death Note reference! **

**Icyheart666- Thank you!**

**ThisStrawberryIsYours- Don't worry, I'll continue it!**

**8888Dearie8888- Of course, never forget the flowers!**

**general zargon- ^^' Yeahh, I'm a pretty blunt person, so sometimes I forget to add a little more detail to the story, but thank you for the critique! **

**Whew, sorry it took so long to update this! The last two stories really wiped me out and I'm pretty stressed (I HATE BEING A SENIOR!) Anyway, here is the next chapter, hope you all like it!**

* * *

He felt rather than saw Asura's attack. He had been blinded by his rage and Asura used that to his advantage, using a single beam from Vajra to stagger Death. He dug his scythe into the ground, slowing his inevitable stagger. When he was completely stopped, he looked up to see Asura heading directly toward him. Death unearthed his scythe and used it to block the Kishin's attack.

"I thought you would be stronger than this, master. I'm a little disappointed." Asura scorned.

Death's eyes narrowed and four shadows in the shape of his mask slithered from his body toward Asura, their eyes narrowed just like their master's. They latched onto Asura, black blood spurting from the wounds. Death surged toward him, scythe poised to slice through Asura's body. Asura grinned.

"You're still blinded by your own rage! Jumping right in to attack isn't wise, isn't that what you taught me?!" Asura opened his mouth.

Death summoned his shield, the beam forcing him back some. He grunted.

_He is right; I'm not even thinking properly. I need to stop attacking him immediately._ He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. _Remember: a sound soul dwells within a sound mind and a sound body._ He exhaled and opened his eyes again.

Asura was waiting patiently, his palms pressed together. He was preparing his more powerful attack, Death realized. He held his ground, the two beams racing toward him. He deflected one, but the other disarmed him. He hastily distorted his frame, moving to the side and letting the beam zip past him. He looked around for his scythe, only to find it broken. He felt a pang. That scythe had belonged to the Shinigami for generations. He clenched his claws together.

"You aren't very useful without your scythe, are you, Death?" Asura mocked.

Eibon and the remaining warriors stepped closer to him, but he held his arm out.

"No. I'll handle this; don't get involved." He ordered.

"But, Death, you do not have a weapon. How can you possibly hope to defeat him without one?" Eibon queried apprehensively.

Death looked at his signature and smirked. "With my bare hands."

His right arm stretched out and he brought his hand crashing down onto Asura's skull. The force brought the Kishin to his knees. Asura growled and his scarves rushed toward Death. Death gasped in surprise as they constricted around his body, knocking the breath out of his body. He grit his teeth and sent waves of his own soul through the scarves. They struck Asura and he hissed, his scarves recoiling back.

Death's shadows appeared again, latching onto Asura's arms and legs, and dragged him closer. Death wrapped his hand tightly around Asura's neck.

"Kishin Asura, your soul is mine." He dug his claws in and ripped Asura's skin off.

Asura shrieked with agony, his body dissipating and leaving behind his soul. Still clutching his skin, Death grabbed the soul and sealed it within the bag of skin he was now clutching. He placed seal after seal onto the bag. He could feel the soul surging violently inside, the seals beginning to burn off. He growled and continued to place more seals on it. Eibon neared him.

"Death, it will not be possible maintaining all those seals. He will get out."

Death sighed. "No, he won't. There is only one other thing for me to do."

He indicated a puzzled Eibon to step back, which the wizard obliged curiously. Death closed his eyes and began to resonate his soul with the magnetic field of the earth and Asura's weakening wavelengths. The earth shook violently as he struggled to maintain the resonance and he felt his soul expand outside his body. His wavelengths connected to the magnetic field as they reached their limits, two kilometers away with him being the epicenter. The earth beneath him crumbled, but he didn't fall into the hole. Rather, he dropped the bag of skin containing Asura down it. He waited for a few minutes and when Asura did not arise, he relaxed and looked at his warriors.

"What did you do?" Black Mass demanded.

"In order to seal him away, I had to root my own soul to the earth here." He replied tiredly.

Eibon's head snapped sharply in his direction. "You mean-"

Death nodded. "I can never leave this area again."

"What are we supposed to do?" One of his other warriors asked worriedly.

"...We will disband. I am useless unless the area in danger is here. I must guard the Kishin's soul for the remainder of my life, however long that may be. I don't care what you will do, but your plans cannot include me." He was sullen. The idea of being rooted to one spot until the end of time certainly was cumbersome.

"What are you going to do, Death?" Eibon asked, sounding genuinely worried about his old friend.

"I will help the people rebuild this town. I think I will also open an academy to prevent this," he indicated the hole where Asura rested, "from happening again. I will send word worldwide for weapons and meisters to come here to train."

Eibon nodded and said kindly, "Until we meet again, then, my friend."

He and the other warriors disappeared, leaving Death standing there amongst the rubble of the ruined town. He wasn't to keen on the idea of training humans how to fight evil humans and witches, but with him out of commission, someone needed to uphold Order.

The people of the town warily came back, sobbing as they saw the ruins. He dared to go over to them, watching them cower. Ophelia pushed her way through the crowd over to him, her injuries almost healed, much to his surprise and worry.

"You're okay!" She exclaimed with relief, smiling shakily at him.

"Of course I'm okay." He addressed her before looking at the people behind her. They flinched, but he paid it no mind as he said, "I apologize for the damage done to your town. I will help you rebuild it to newfound glory. However, I have a request. I would like to start a school dedicated solely to preventing another Kishin to arise. I need help, though, building such a school."

The people talked amongst themselves, hesitant about the idea. For an uneasy moment, Death feared they would refuse. Then, the Town Elder stepped forward and nodded his approval. "We will help you, Lord Death, as thanks for you protecting us from the Kishin."

He blinked in surprise at the "Lord" added to his name, but said nothing about it. "Thank you. I assure you won't regret making this decision."

The Elder turned back to his people, giving them orders. Death turned away from them and noticed Ophelia was no longer there. Having an idea to where she had gone, he went to the remains of her house. She was standing there, her back to him, watching her still blazing house. Her hands were clenched into fists and her shoulders were shaking. Death uncertainly went over to her, carefully placing a hand on her shoulder. Rather than recoil from the touch, her hand reached up and touched his claws.

"M-my poor flowers..." She murmured.

"I'm sorry. When the town is completed, I will make a garden for you." He offered.

She turned to look at him, tears in her eyes, and she smiled waterily. "T-thank you, Death. F-for saving me and my town."

He didn't respond. He just watched as her house collapsed, snuffing the fire out. He sighed and she suddenly said, "Your new school: who can attend?"

Bemused by the question, he responded, "Weapons and humans who can wield them. Why?"

She ignored his question. "How old would they be?"

"I don't know. However old they are now, although perhaps it would be better to teach children...Adults are probably going to be less willing to learn from a Shinigami. Children, I hope, are more open minded." He thought aloud.

Ophelia turned completely around. "You're going to have to change your appearance then."

He rose an eyebrow. "Why?"

She rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "Your appearance now will scare the children half to death! I mean," she gestured to all of him, "you're terrifying. And your voice! Can you change your voice, too?"

He waved his hand at her. "The children won't be scared of me! You're being ridiculous."

He turned and walked away from her. She huffed and called, "If you look like that and try to recruit weapons and meisters, don't expect them to run to you with open arms!"


	5. Change

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* * *

"Eek! He's gonna eat me!"

The children ran away, crying. Death stood there, hurt and puzzled. The school he worked so hard to build was finally created after nearly five years of hard work. He only needed to find students. The only problem was the children ran from him the moment they saw him. It was actually starting to hurt his feelings.

Ophelia stood nearby, hand covering her mouth as she smiled with amusement. The children ran to her, hiding behind her. A little girl clutched her skirt, wiping her nose on it. Death stood sheepishly nearby. He touched his mask and visibly grimaced. He was begrudgingly starting to accept the fact he needed to change.

"I told you so!" Ophelia called, laughing slightly when he glowered at her. He didn't dare go near her, though; he feared he would frighten the children more.

She knelt down so she was eye level with the children and murmured, "Now, now, there isn't anything to be afraid of!"

"B-but, he's scary and mean!" A boy whined, pointing a nervous finger at Death.

She looked back at him before turning her attention to the boy. "Yeah, I guess he looks kind of scary and big to you little ones, but he isn't mean, I promise you! He's really nice and he only wants the best for you children! He wants you to join his school so he can teach you to fight the bad guys. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

The children stopped crying, wiping away their tears and runny noses. They smiled a little and nodded.

Ophelia beamed and stood up, ruffling their hair. "Don't worry, he'll prove to you he is really nice! Go off and play now!"

They scampered off, their previous fears forgotten, and she walked over to Death, hands on her hips. "Believe me now? You're never going to get students looking like that. I mean, look at your hands; you still have _blood_ on them! When is the last time you've washed your hands?!"

Death sighed and grumbled, "Okay, I'll admit you may be correct. How exactly am I supposed to change, though?"

"Your voice, for one thing." He furrowed his brow.

"My...voice? What's wrong with it?" He asked, slightly offended.

"Nothing if you want to instill consternation into the hearts of men. That isn't you anymore; you're trying to be a headmaster. Your voice is too intimidating to a child. Try making it sound happier- you sound so sullen- maybe change the pitch, too." She suggested.

He considered her suggestion. It was realistic enough, though he had never tried it before. Then again, if he can change his own shape, then why not his voice? He shortened his vocal chords and queried hesitantly, "Like this?"

The voice coming from his throat was cheerier, childlike even, but still masculine enough for him. He felt a little ridiculous, but Ophelia smiled approvingly. "It's a good start. Next, your attire. Your robe is sharp looking and your mask is foreboding. It gives children nightmares. You need a blithe expression...I'll start working on something right away!"

"No need." He cut her off, reaching for his mask.

She watched in shock as he removed his mask, revealing more blackness. She pouted and he chuckled, amused.

"Did you honestly think I would show my face out in the open?" He asked.

"I was hoping you would...Not fair!" She stamped her foot and he chuckled again before focusing on his mask.

He softened the edges and lengthened it, more specifically the maxilla. He used his thumb to make two round eye sockets and also rounded the nasal cavity. Ophelia watched him craft his new mask curiously, standing on the tips of her toes. He smoothed the cracks from numerous battles and placed his new goofy looking mask on.

"As for the rest of my appearance...I'd be more comfortable changing that at my home. No one needs to see me running around naked while working on it." He said, missing the flush on Ophelia's cheeks at the mental image he had unintentionally given her.

"R-right." She cursed the falter in her voice, but once again, he didn't pick up on it.

"I will find you so you can approve my new look."

She nodded. "I'll most likely be in the garden, so come meet me there."

Death gave her a little wave before the two went off in different directions. The townspeople, as thanks and hopeful appeasement, had built him a manor near the outskirts of the town. It was aptly named "Gallows Manor." He liked it well enough, but found the large halls empty. It was missing something, but he couldn't place what. He filled his new home with books and flowers, even some paintings, but the hollow sensation only seemed to get bigger.

He entered his bed chambers and removed his mask before taking off his robe. He stood there, feeling vulnerable, and hastily set to work on his new attire. He demolished his signature and fierce looking hands, squaring them and making them large. They were still as hard as their previous shape, being made of his bones, but their nonthreatening appearance made up for it. He rubbed his chin in thought as he regarded the remainder of his robe.

He wasn't going to get rid of the tattered robe. It had been his father's and his father's father before him. He was almost too unwilling to change anything about it at all, but knew he would have to. He chose to keep its edges jagged looking (after all, he still needed to appear a tiny bit intimidating), but made it narrow as it neared his feet. He adjusted his legs accordingly and pulled the robe on before regarding himself in the full length mirror.

Death tilted his head to the left, then the right. He didn't recognize himself. His new appearance made his former self look like a joke and he almost thought to change everything back. A seed of doubt planted itself in his worried mind. What if the children still didn't like him?

"Now, no more of that negativity!" He chirped to himself, using his new voice.

He found his new look appropriate and nodded once. "I hope Ophelia and the children like it! Time to get out of this scary era!"

He actually found himself feeling better using such a lighthearted tone and bounced out of his manor. He greeted everyone who appeared in his path buoyantly. They returned his hello's happily enough, having grown accustomed to his presence. He was pleased they no longer feared him. Death went to the garden, opening the iron gate. He didn't need to look down the numerous rows of flowers. He knew where to find her.

Whenever he went to the garden, she was always in the same row. Between the marigolds and the mauve carnations. Pain and dreams of fantasy respectively, if he remembered correctly. She was lovingly removing weeds from a patch of carnations, immersed in her work. She paused to swipe away the sweat off her brow and looked up at him. Her cyan eyes conveyed her pleased surprise as she took him in.

"It certainly is an improvement. Yes, I think you'll get your students now." She smiled.

Death squinted his eyes with pleasure. "I'll try again tomorrow, so hopefully things will go as planned!"

Ophelia laughed. "I'm sure they will. Your voice is ridiculous, though! You really need to work on it."

He grumbled and lightly hit her over the head with his hand. "First you say my voice is too scary and now it's too ridiculous? Can't you make up your mind?"

She rubbed her head, though his blow hadn't hurt much. "It isn't my fault you can't be consistent."

He knew she was teasing him and he snorted good naturedly. For the past five years, she had smoothed out his own rough edges by showing him compassion. He was wary at first, certain he wouldn't be able to become gentle enough to not immediately make humans fear him. However, when she introduced him to everyone, he found himself wanting to change. He even realized he was developing a sense of humor void of macabre.

"You know, my twenty-sixth is in a couple of days." She hinted, turning back to the carnations.

He hummed thoughtfully. "What would you like?"

She grabbed the watering can beside her and gently spilled the water over the carnations before giving the marigolds the same treatment. "I can't tell you that! It wouldn't be a surprise then! I'm only telling you so you don't forget."

Death smiled slightly. "Of course. I'll figure it out on my own. I must be going. Shall I escort you home?"

Ophelia nodded and stood up, brushing her hands off on her skirt. She left the watering can where it was. "Yes, please. I'm afraid I lost track of time again."

She gestured to the darkening sky. He held his arm out and she looped her arm with his, the two meandering out of the garden. The walk was silent, but in a companionable way as the two enjoyed the other's presence. Ophelia looked up at him out of the corner of her eye. He was tall; so much taller than she was. She dared to imagine he was nearly seven feet, which was a height unheard of. When she thought about it, his proportions were humanly impossible. She bit her lip and murmured, "Actually, I thought of something..."

He looked down at her. "What?"

"I want to see what you really look like: no mask and no robe."


	6. Lord Death's Goal Takes Shape!

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* * *

Beneath his mask, Death was gaping at her. He had stopped walking and so had she, looking up at him nervously. He knew it wasn't an unreasonable request, but he was so hesitant to reveal the face he had hidden for so long. An irrational part of him even feared she wouldn't like his face.

"You want to see my face?" He asked, sounding incredulous.

Ophelia's face flushed. "W-well, yes. I mean, I know that isn't your real face and one can't help but be curious."

"How do you know this isn't my real face?" He touched his mask.

She scowled with confusion. "But, you removed-"

"We Shinigami are very versatile. We can alter our shapes; it shouldn't be surprising that I can remove my own face." He was teasing, of course, and he smiled when her face paled.

"O-oh. Sorry I-" He interrupted her by laughing shortly.

"It was all in jest, Ophelia. I am not comfortable with revealing my face to you quite yet. I must think about it." He resumed walking, gently pulling her along until she followed him.

She nodded. "I understand. You don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable. You can always get me something."

"Your birthday is in two days; that gives me plenty of time to consider your request."

The sun had already set, the air turning cool. He felt her shiver and glanced down at her. She was looking straight ahead, her free hand rubbing her arms. He unlinked his arm from hers and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. She looked up at him in surprise.

"You're...warm?" She sounded puzzled.

Death snorted. "Of course I am."

"B-but, when we first met you told me you were just a blob." He laughed aloud.

"I had been kidding. Believe it or not, I have an organic body."

She seemed embarrassed at her own gullibility and the remainder of their walk was silent. He stopped in front of the gate leading to her house and released her shoulders.

"Don't forget to help me recruit the new students tomorrow." He reminded her, wagging his finger.

Ophelia smiled, previous embarrassment forgotten. "I won't. Don't forget to work on that silly voice of yours."

He huffed. "It is fine the way it is now!"

She laughed and nodded. "Of course. See you tomorrow, Death."

She opened her ate and shut it behind her. He waited until she was inside before turning around and going back to his own home. The streets were quiet as everyone had retired to their homes, presumably eating dinner. Death had never experienced hunger; he was almost curious to try food, but never saw a point to actually consume it. After all, he didn't need food to sustain him. He only drank tea on occasion, finding it to be pleasurable as well as relaxing. His own mother had been fond of tea, drinking it constantly.

He entered his home, not bothering to lock the door behind him. No one would dare to enter his home without permission. They still feared him to an extent, though their fear didn't match the centuries of hatred toward him. Death went to his library and sat down in his favorite armchair. He had hit positioned so it would face the bay window that overlooked the town. He grabbed the book he had started to read and flipped through the pages until he got to where he left off.

Another luxury he didn't need was sleep. When he was a child, he could sleep; all Shinigami can until their first century. It didn't affect him, but he remembered the night he realized he could no longer sleep. It frightened him and he was bored, squandering his time reading or listening to his father tell him the ways of being a God of Order. After he took his father's place, Death, having no home or books, chose to count the stars and wait until the sun rose once more. It was a tiresome thing and he still found himself missing slumber.

Death sighed and removed his mask, rubbing his eyes. He found it irritating to attempt to read while wearing that mask. At the thought of his mask, his mind wandered to Ophelia's request.

It was tradition to wear a mask as a Shinigami. Something about making humans fear them more; after all, humans would be less inclined to fear a being that looked exactly like them. His father, Shi, had told him to only reveal his face to someone precious to him. Shi himself had not revealed his face to his wife until nearly one hundred years after meeting her. It wasn't like their identity would be in jeopardy, it was more of the fact it seemed any human who lay eyes on the true face of a Shinigami descended into madness. Death had already condemned Ophelia to madness, but that didn't mean he would make it happen any faster.

He stared blankly at his book. He wanted to make her happy, he found himself caring for her, but again, that little part of him was worried she would hate him because of his face. He personally hadn't laid eyes on his own face in years. He couldn't remember what he looked like.

Realizing he wouldn't be getting any reading done that night, Death folded a corner of the page back and set the book beside his chair before standing up. He wanted tea. Perhaps the chamomile tea Ophelia had given him. He set to making it, heating the water over the fireplace before adding the crushed up chamomile, stirring it with his finger absentmindedly.

"She doesn't know what she's asked of me." He murmured to himself, removing his finger from the scalding tea.

He wasn't about to tell her the enormity of her request though. He didn't want her to worry and he still hadn't told her that he could no longer take her soul even if he wanted to. He was apprehensive of her reaction.

Death brought his cup back to the library and sank back into his chair. He sipped it, wincing when the tea burned his lips and tongue.

He lost track of night as the sky was painted a gentle pink and orange, the shades clashing and mixing. He placed his mask back on and left his home. The children were already up and about, chasing each other and laughing. They stopped, though, when their paths crossed with his. He was pleased when they didn't run immediately when they saw him, opting instead to tilt their heads to the side and look at him interestedly. Death waved cheerfully at them.

"Good morning, young ones! Are you all doing okay?" He tilted his head childishly back at them.

The children giggled and nodded, chorusing, "Yes, Lord Death!"

He clapped his hands together. "Wonderful! I'm sorry I scared you yesterday, I hope you can forgive me. I'm sure Miss Ophelia told you about my school and I would liked to invite you all to attend if your parents will let you. You can make new friends there~!"

Ophelia had just left her home and looked at the most curious sight. Death was playing with the children, letting them climb on him. Four were hanging off his arms as he swung them carefully. They were squealing happily. She watched mirthfully, glad he looked like he was in his element. She heard him speaking and grasped he was not only playing with them, but telling them about his school.

"There will be children who can turn into weapons and then there will be children who can't, but that's okay because they can use the weapon children as partners. They will team up and fight the bad guys!" He chattered amiably.

At first, she didn't think the children were listening, too busy playing, but realized she was wrong. The children were questioning him.

"Where are the other children coming from?" One asked.

"Everywhere! My school is open to everyone who wishes to become stronger while not leaving the path!" He declared, helping a little girl flip.

Ophelia was glad his goal was beginning to take shape. It made her happy to see her precious person so blithe.


	7. Ophelia's Birthday

**ChiChi-O- XD Death is kinda cute in that last chapter, huh? Thank you for gushing, too, lol**

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"You agreed to it; you can't go back on it now!"

"Stop trying to yank it off my face! Don't make me chop your head!"

"I'd stop trying to grab it off if you would just bloody get on with it already! Stop being such a baby!"

Death kept one hand firmly over his mask while the other kept the now twenty-six year old woman at bay. She was straining on the tips of her toes, attempting to reach for his precious mask. Her fingers brushed his maxilla and he grumbled with annoyance.

"That's it- Reaper Chop!" He brought his hand crashing own on her skull, hard enough to make her flinch away.

"Ow! That really hurt!" Ophelia whined, massaging her throbbing skull while glaring at him.

"Be patient!" He removed his other hand from his mask and poked his fingers together. "I haven't seen my face in so long, I guess I'm a little...nervous."

She looked at him, considering his words. She smiled encouragingly. "I promise I won't go running out the door screaming. You can't be that bad looking...I think."

He withheld a sigh. She still didn't know what she was asking of him and he didn't have the heart to tell her.

As though sensing his reluctance, she put her hand on his arm and reminded him, "Hey, you promised we would spend the day together, but you wouldn't wear your mask."

"I know. I suppose I can't tarry any longer." He took a deep breath and reached for his mask. Ophelia watched with bated breath as he removed the mask. Her eyes widened.

His porcelain white skin appeared translucent, a stark contrast to his black robes. His eyes were shut tightly as though he didn't want to see her reaction. He had inky black hair with two peculiar white lines that circled his head all the way around. The only flaw she could see was a faded scar. It started at the bridge of his nose, tapering off at the edge of his jaw on his right cheek.

Ophelia frowned when she noticed his eyes were still shut. "Death, open your eyes."

With obvious hesitation, he opened his eyes, revealing he had heterochromia. The right eye was a brilliant shade of red, no pupil, and the left was smoldering gold. Her hand flew to her mouth. He backed away from her, looking almost timid.

"I-I'm sorry." He apologized, cursing his stutter. He reached for his mask.

"NO!" She startled both of them by her loud outburst. His hand froze and he looked at her with wide eyes. She blushed and said softer, "I like your face. Don't hide it."

Death was confused. Why was she not going mad? He thought seeing his face would have made her fall into madness immediately rather than gradually. He must have been staring at her with a peculiar expression because she turned her back, looking sheepish.

"Um, what's with the white lines?"

He furrowed his brow. He had white lines? "White lines...Oh, you must mean the Lines of Sanzu? I'm not entirely certain why they are there, only that they are a physical characteristic adherent solely to Shinigami."

Death then added rather shyly, "I don't suppose you have a mirror in which I can look at myself?"

Shakily, Ophelia nodded and disappeared into a room adjacent to the kitchen. While she was gone, he decided to remove his robes, wearing a suit beneath it. He recalled her telling him she wanted to see him completely out of his typical garb. He fiddled with the tie nervously when he heard her return to the sitting room. She looked surprised when she saw his different outfit, but grinned and handed him a portable mirror. He gaped at his reflection, poking his cheek. It was rough with stubble.

"Do Shinigami always have only two Lines of Sanzu?" She queried, sitting across from him.

He shook his head, setting the mirror atop his robes. "No, we typically have three. The reason why I have two is because I have a sibling. She initially three Lines, but when I was born, two faded and appeared on me."

Ophelia nodded, looking truly interested. "Do the Lines have anything to do with power?"

"Yes. Though she was older, I became the successor to our Honorable Father, Shi. I am more powerful than she." He grabbed the cup of tea he had forgotten about and took a sip. It was still warm.

"Why don't you walk around like that?"

Death looked at his human hands and clenched them. "Humans go mad when they lay eyes on the face of a Shinigami. The fact you have not gone mad is remarkable. Besides, Shinigami are supposed to be scary; we don't look to intimidating like this."

"There's one thing I don't understand, though; why are you so tall?" He smiled at this.

"I just told you you may go mad from looking at my face and all you can focus on is how tall I am?" She scowled and he chuckled, choosing to answer her. "Genetics, I suppose. Most Shinigami are tall."

She crossed her arms across her chest. "While I'm not exactly looking to go mad or anything, but I wouldn't mind it so much if it was because I got to see your face. You're quite handsome, you know."

Death sputtered, visibly discomfited. "_Handsome?_ I wouldn't go that far."

She giggled. "No, really. I bet all the ladies would be over you."

"Shinigami only show their face to someone they hold precious."

Ophelia immediately turned serious. "If I had known then I wouldn't have-"

"Ophelia, you are a precious person to me. If I did not think so, I would have refused the moment you made the request." He replied seriously.

She looked surprised by his words before she smiled happily. "You're special to me, too, Death."

He returned the smile, revealing pearly white teeth, his eyes crinkling. He then cleared his throat and reached for his robe, rummaging through it.

"Since it is not polite to attend a birthday party without a gift, I got you something alongside with revealing my face to you." He muttered, pulling out a black box.

He handed it to her and watched her open it, her face alighting. She pulled out the choker. The ribbon was black satin and in the center of the ribbon was an ivory version of Death's skull mask. She tied it around her neck, beaming, and got up. He watched in bewilderment as she bent down and hugged him around his neck.

"Thank you, I love it!" She kissed his cheek as she pulled back.

Death scratched his head, smiling awkwardly. "I'm glad you like it. I asked the Jeweler to make it after I gave him the materials. I thought about getting you Camilla Japonica but decided that would be what you would expect."

"'Unpretending excellence.' That's a great choice; you have my stamp of approval." She grinned.

He returned his grin and she got up. "I made a cake, would you like some?"

She had never seen him eat and he figured she was milking this experience for all it was worth. He decided to humor her. "Yes, cake would be nice."

Ophelia went into the kitchen, returning a couple minutes later with two pieces of lemon cake. He took his plate from her and cut a piece. He noticed she wasn't digging into her own piece. Instead, she was staring at him rather intently. Death forked the piece he had cut off and purposefully stuck it in his mouth, chewing slowly. He had never had lemon cake before and found he rather liked it. It wasn't sour like he had been expecting, but instead, was rather sweet, the vanilla icing going well with it. He looked up and saw she was gaping at him.

"What? Do I have some on my face?" He subconsciously touched the corner of his mouth.

"N-no. I just didn't think-"

"Did you expect me to burst into flame? I can eat, but I don't need to in order to sustain myself." He took another bite.

She sighed. "I guess I have a lot to learn about Shinigami. It's a shame I don't have much time. I'm already middle aged."

Death cursed silently when he bit his tongue, his mouth flooding with the metallic taste of his own blood. He had a strong, sinking feeling she was going to live a lot longer if what Eibon had told him was correct.

"Death? Are you alright?" She was looking at him worriedly now.

He almost told her right then his fears. That she wouldn't grow old. That she would watch those she cared about die while she remained the same. He reminded himself she didn't seem to have anyone. So, he lied.

"No. Everything's fine."


	8. A Sister's Realization

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**I DO NOT OWN SOUL EATER**

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"Now, remember, after you complete a mission to report back to me. Find a reflective surface and say '42-42-564 whenever you want to knock on Death's door.' Also, once you get 99 evil human souls, you must get one witch soul in order to turn your weapon into a Death Scythe; one of my weapons. Any questions?" He looked at his students.

A boy raised his hand. "Would we still be able to use our weapon partner?"

"Yes~! It is not necessarily required for them to immediately come work for me, they have a choice in the matter. They may also go to different locations in the world and protect that area if they so wish." He replied happily.

It had been over ten years since the opening of his school, which was fitfully named "Death Weapon Meister Academy." The school had progressed exactly the way he had hoped it would and the Order in the world was still perfectly in balance. The first generation students had long since graduated, some remaining to become teachers, while others went to different locations in the world to protect the cities there. Death had an array of Death Scythes at his disposal, but only kept one close to him at all times. His current partner, his first partner, was an actual scythe. She was a tall, silent, and serious woman named Nadine.

"You are all dismissed! Don't forget to check with your teachers to see if there are any missions you can complete!" He called after his students as they ran off.

Nadine was standing beside him, her arms folded across her chest. He patted her shoulder. "Why don't you go on a tea break? I have an engagement to attend and she doesn't like to be kept waiting."

She nodded wordlessly and headed to the tea shop down the road. Death waved to her before going the opposite direction. The people greeted him enthusiastically and he responded just as lightheartedly, pausing a second to ruffle a boy's hair. The boy grinned and ran off to join his friends. Death continued on his way, approaching Ophelia's house.

She was outside, chatting away with a woman Death had never seen before. As he got closer, he realized the woman wasn't quite a woman; "girl" would describe her better. She didn't seem to be any older then fifteen, her face round and affable. She had large green eyes and a wide mouth. Her long brown hair was pulled up in a bun, a few strands brushing against her cheek. Looking at her, Death felt his stomach drop. He knew who she was and at the same time hoped he was wrong.

Ophelia turned and looked at him, her face brightening more.

"Hey, you made it!" She called, grabbing the girl's hand and bringing her over to where he seemed rooted.

He was grateful for his mask, hiding his dismayed expression, and cleared his throat, saying, "Hiya! Who's this lovely young lady?"

The girl blushed embarrassedly, smiling shyly. Ophelia giggled and hugged her around her shoulders.

"This is my little sister, Beatrice. She's going to be staying with me for the next month; her boarding school is on break. Bea, this is my dear friend, Death."

Beatrice curtsied, murmuring, "It is very nice to meet you, Lord Death."

He bowed at his waist. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Beatrice."

His heart plummeted. _She has family? Why hasn't she mentioned anything before? It would have been so much easier if she didn't have family, but now things have changed._

Death still hadn't told her she wasn't going to die any time soon, delaying the information longer than he should have. Her fortieth birthday was nearing and she still didn't look any older than twenty-one. She was suspicious, of course; she noticed she didn't have wrinkles or gray hair, but dismissively thought she was simply aging gracefully. He knew he shouldn't delay it any longer, but he was terrified of her reaction.

"Death? Are you alright?" He looked up at her. He was suddenly in her house, sitting at his usual spot with a cup of tea in his hands. The two women were peering at his mask, Beatrice with curiosity and Ophelia with concern. Their two decades of friendship had sharpened her perception of his expressions beneath his mask. It was something that both annoyed and gave him relief. He wanted at least one person to understand him.

"I am alright. Forgive me, I am a bit stressed." He muttered, takin a sip of his lukewarm tea.

Ophelia squinted her eyes, but didn't press him. She sat back down and turned to Beatrice, asking her about her school. Beatrice replied quietly and Death couldn't help but compare the two.  
Had they not looked so similar, he would have doubted their relation. While Ophelia was outspoken and opinionated, her sister was reserved and shy, timid even. Ophelia was confident, Beatrice had obvious low self-esteem. It was almost interesting to see such polar opposites.

He took another sip of his tea. Beatrice turned to him. "Big sister told me that you are headmaster of the Death Weapon Meister Academy. What's your school like?"

"The other teachers and I train weapons and their meisters to hunt evil humans and witches so that the world may remain in order." He replied.

She nodded thoughtfully. "It sounds dangerous."

"Oh, yes, it is. I myself used to hunt witches and evil humans with my seven warriors, but that was a long time ago." His mind drifted off, thinking back to what the world seemed to call "The Grim Times."

"But, now he's an old codger training a bunch of whipper-snappers." Ophelia jested, laughing when he shot her an irate look.

"Don't make me split your head open." He warned, waving his hand at her.

"I'm pretty certain my head is as hard as rock what with all the times you've struck it." She said, still laughing.

"Would you like me to test that theory then?" He playfully hit her and she feigned pain.

Beatrice watched the two's interaction with wide eyes. It was a curious sight for her to behold, one that she was glad to not have missed. She always found her sister to be coolly polite with everyone, especially mean. This warm, playful side of Ophelia was one Beatrice had never seen graced upon a person outside their immediate family. Beatrice smiled softly, enjoying the scene.

After their banter, Death finished his tea and looked out the wooden pane window. The sky was dark. He stood up, the two women looking up at him.

"Im afraid I must be going. Thank you for a lovely time, ladies." He said, bowing slightly.

Ophelia frowned. "Must you go now? I was going to show Beatrice the moonflowers and I would like for you to come with us."

He shook his head regretfully. "I'm sorry, Ophelia, but I have things I need to do. Miss Beatrice, it was a pleasure."

She nodded and smiled at him. "Goodbye, Lord Death."

He turned back to Ophelia, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah." She answered forlornly.

He exited her house, the night air crisp, and returned to the Academy to finish some paperwork that had been filing up.

* * *

Ophelia turned to Beatrice, her disappointed expression disappearing. "Oh, well. He'll have to come with us another time. Go get your shawl; it gets quite chilly here at night."

Beatrice nodded and did what she was told, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders. Ophelia grabbed her own and the two left the house. While Beatrice didn't share her older sister's fondness of botany, she certainly did appreciate the flowers' beauty. The sisters linked arms, Ophelia going about a mile a minute.

"The moon flowers here are so tall; taller than Death! And so beautiful! There the flowers I want for when I die, you know."

"Wouldn't a grievous flower be more appropriate, though? A funeral is a sad occasion." Beatrice inquired, puzzled.

Ophelia smiled wistfully. "They don't have to be. Moon flowers symbolize dreaming of love. When I die, I want to dream of love, like I do now. I don't want anyone to be sad at my funeral; I want flowers that symbolize my dreams!"

Beatrice shook her head. She was already used to her sister's eccentricities. She said purposefully, "You know, Lord Death seems rather fond of you."

"Naturally; we've been friends for over twenty years." Ophelia was missing her point.

Beatrice tried again. "I mean, I think he cares for you like a man would his wife."

Ophelia looked at her sister with wide eyes before snorting in amusement. "I highly doubt that. He isn't looking for a wife. We're just very good friends, Bea."

"You love him." Ophelia stopped dead in her tracks.

"W-what? I do not!" She sputtered, her face turning crimson.

Beatrice laughed. "Your expression says it all! Ophelia, you're in love with Lord Death!"

Ophelia shook her head quickly and resumed walking. "E-even if I was, which I'm not, it wouldn't make a difference. He's immortal. I only have a few years left."

"Now that I doubt. You don't look a day over twenty; it's like you stopped aging or something. It's odd."

Ophelia shrugged. "We all die sometime, Beatrice."

"I know, but I just can't picture you dead; it's too painful." Beatrice admitted quietly.

Ophelia hugged her sister. "It's alright; I find death to be quite a beautiful thing. Remember what I said? I don't want anyone sad at my funeral."

Beatrice smiled and nodded. Suddenly, there was the sound of a twig snapping. The two women froze and looked around. They were at the outskirts of the city, but far enough away that if anything attacked them, it would be a while when help, if any, would come. Heavy breathing came from somewhere in front of them. Beatrice whimpered and clung to Ophelia.

"W-what was that?" She whispered nervously.

Ophelia didn't respond. She couldn't recall if there were any wild animals out in the fields, but didn't doubt it. Whatever it was that was stalking them was certainly large and hungry. A dark form moved in front of them and they squealed.

"Bea, we need to run." She breathed. She grabbed Beatrice's hand and ran back toward the town.

The thing after them roared and gave chase. Ophelia and Beatrice ran as fast as they could in their heavy dresses, neither daring to look back.

* * *

Death stood in his favorite room in his school. It served as his "office", properly coined as "The Death Room." The only way into the room was if he gave permission. No matter the weather or time of day, the room was always bright, little white clouds floating lazily on the walls. A large mirror in which he could watch any student's progression was in the very center. Yes, it was certainly his favorite room.

Nadine was there, sitting down at a table near the mirror, eyes closed. She opened an eye when she heard him approach and bowed her head in respect.

"Good evening to you, too, Nadine." He replied.

He froze then. He sensed three souls outside of the town. Two were gentle, their soul wavelengths passing over him warmly. The last was angry and bitter. It was nearing the pure souls. A wavelength hit him and he recognized it immediately.

"Ophelia." He turned around. Nadine was already standing, looking expectantly at him with her steely eyes.

He nodded once at her and her body began to glow. He grabbed the staff of her weapon form, the glow shattering. He raced out of the Death Room and out of the school. He silently cursed himself for not thinking about sending someone to keep an eye on Ophelia and Beatrice.

As he got nearer, one soul abruptly disappeared. The evil soul swelled and he heard a bloodcurdling scream. He determined the owner of the scream and moved faster.


	9. Confessions

**Mewtwo362- Me too! - Had no idea where I was going with this ^^"**

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**Guest (Dearie)- You can have more TODAY!**

**Confetti108- That's okay! Thank you for your review!**

**I forget to mention this earlier, but time for me to grovel for one of my other stories:**

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**Now, onto the story!**

* * *

She was on her knees on the ground, her body trembling. The evil human towered over her, plucking her lifeless sister's soul from her body. It dropped the little blue soul on its tongue and swallowed loudly. Ophelia remained where she was, her face and dress spattered with her sister's blood. Her eyes were wide, tears running down her face. It had slashed through Beatrice like butter just moments before. She had been able to do nothing except watch her sister die. She was useless.

It turned to her, its beady red eyes leering at her.

"More..." It rasped out. Ophelia stumbled backward from it, crying.

"No, no, please! I don't want to die like this!" She struggled to her feet.

She ran a few feet, hearing the evil human give chase. It swiped at her feet, tripping her. With a shriek, she fell hard, whirling around to watch it lurk over to her. It raised its claws up to deal the death blow and she shut her eyes tightly and screamed.

There was a deafening clang and the sound of clothes flapping in the breeze. When she didn't feel the excruciating, Ophelia opened her eyes hesitantly and gasped. Death was standing in front of her protectively, blocking the evil human's claws with his scythe.

"Ophelia, are you alright?" He asked, not daring to take his eyes off the evil human.

"Y-y-yeah. Thank you." She whispered.

Death's eyes narrowed as he looked at the evil human. "You pitiful creature. You have strayed far from the path of Order. Your soul is mine."

He crashed his hand onto the evil human's skull. It yelped and scurried back, gaining its momentum to attack. Death poised his scythe, glancing at the blade. Nadine's reflection appeared in it, her eyes determined. He looked back at the evil human, watching as it charged him. He brought his blade back and slice through its body. It grunted, looking astounded. Its body disappeared, leaving behind its inflamed soul.

Death released Nadine and she turned back, going over to Beatrice's body. He knelt in front of Ophelia and carefully placed his hands on her shoulders. She was staring straight ahead, her eyes only flickering to him when he touched her. Her face was ashen and her bottom lip quivered.

"I-I didn't s-save her...I-I j-j-just let her d-d-ie..." She covered her mouth, but the choked sob escaped her.

"I'm sorry." He murmured.

Another sob followed the first and she threw her arms around his neck, crying into his chest. He was startled; he had never seen this side of her and it honestly scared him. He hated seeing her so broken. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. She wept like a small child who had scraped her knee. He soothingly rubbed her back, feeling her tears sodden his robe. It didn't bother him.

He carefully stood up with her and lifted her up, cradling her to his chest. Her hands gripped his robe tightly, her sobs indiscernible. Death turned to Nadine, who tenderly closed Beatrice's eyes.

"Nadine, would you...?" He let the question hang in the air, unwilling to finish the remainder of his request while Ophelia was still inconsolable. His partner nodded her head and slowly stood up, holding Beatrice's body.

Death turned away and walked back into town. The town was still slumbering, blissfully unaware of the tragic events that had just transpired. He went to his manor, opening the door carefully without jostling Ophelia, and went inside. He shut the door behind him and walked down the hall.

"Where are we?" Ophelia's voice was muffled by his robe.

"My home. I thought you would be more comfortable here..." He answered softly, going into the room he rarely was in: his bedroom.

He set her gently down on the bed. She looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen. Her tears were beginning to slow, drying on her cheeks. He removed his mask and sat beside her on the bed. She studied his face, seeing he was genuinely sorry for her loss.

"I'm sorry. I should have gone with you, or at least sent someone to make sure you were alright." He said softly.

Ophelia sat up and sniffled, wiping her eyes. "N-no, I shouldn't have pushed her to go. She wanted to stay in, b-but I just wanted her to see the moon flower o-once before she..."

She burst into a fresh wave of tears, covering her face with her hands. Death gently wrapped his fingers around her wrists, pulling her hands down from her face. She looked up at him with watery cyan eyes. He wiped her tears away.

"It isn't your fault, Ophelia. Never think that what happened was your fault." He sighed and removed his hands from her. "I'm sorry...There's something I need to tell you. Something...something I've been putting off for nearly twenty years."

She looked at him curiously. He peered into her eyes. "Ophelia, do you remember the first year or so we met, I was trying to get your soul?"

She nodded slowly. She stated. "You couldn't."

"No, I _wouldn't_. There was just something about you that made me unwilling to take your life. Now, I realize what it is. But, that isn't what I need to tell you. Eventually, your name faded off my list."

"W-what?" She was incredulous.

He looked away from her. "I spoke to my friend Eibon, the wizard. He hadn't heard of something like this, but theorized that you became something similar to a Shinigami. You will live an incredibly long time, Ophelia, and with it you will succumb to madness eventually because of me. Because I was too weak to end your life, I have doomed you to madness."

She didn't say anything and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Why would I succumb to madness?"

"A human can't bear the emotional burden of watching everyone they care about die through the course of the centuries. That is why humans aren't meant to live any longer than one hundred years."

Ophelia dropped her head. "S-so, I would have watched my little sister die anyway?"

He cringed. "Yes, that's right."

"I'm like you?"

"More or less. You're still human, but you will never die of old age. As it stands, you are perpetually twenty-one. The only way for you to die is for someone to kill you. I'm truly sorry, Ophelia, I-"

"Death...what is the reason why you were unwilling to kill me?" She gently interrupted, making him look up at her.

She wasn't angry, but she didn't seem thrilled either. He didn't blame her, but at least she hadn't struck him and stormed out. Death swallowed, suddenly nervous.

"W-well," he once again cursed his stammer, "it's because...erm, I guess it is because I...well, I might have...feelings...for you."

Ophelia laughed shakily, tears coming to her eyes again. "I-it's a pretty crappy time to profess our love for each other, b-but, I feel the same way."

Death smiled hesitantly, reaching out to gently touch her face. She leaned into his touch, her eyes saddening. "It's funny...Bea told me before we left that you cared for me like a man would his wife. I guess I was too certain you wouldn't-"

"Ophelia, you mean more to me than you know." He murmured softly, leaning toward her and brushing his lips against hers briefly.

She felt her face flush. He pulled away and stood up. "You need to get some rest; I'll take care of the...funeral arrangements. It's the least I can do."

She smiled gratefully. "O-okay...Death? Could you stay here until I fall asleep?"

He nodded slowly and sat in the chair beside the bed. She laid down, curling up under the covers. He reached out and gently stroked her hair, leaving only when her breathing had deepened and her face relaxed.


	10. Delaying Shock

**Foton Soul- ^^" I don't even know how I'm going to approach that lol**

**GigiandMad- You'll see~!**

**general zargon- T.T Sorry, and yes, Ophelia's in shock (it's explored more in this chapter)**

**Confetti108- Her sister's death impacts her more in this chapter and the next one, too (sorta)**

**VioletDawn00- T.T I know, I was starting to like her and I was like, "Damn, I created her for the sole purpose of killing her DX"**

**Imaginefun- Lol I always get you emotional**

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**Sorry, this chapter is kind of short, next will be longer (I think...)**

**I do not own Soul Eater, only Ophelia and any other OCs!**

* * *

Death sat in his library, reading distractedly. His mind wasn't taking in the words; they kept drifting to Ophelia's distraught face. He was regretting his unwillingness more and more as the image grew sharper, larger. No one deserved this pain, especially not Ophelia. He thought back to their previous discussion and wished he had held off on his confession. She was in shock, he knew that much. Her cyan eyes were dull and he noticed she was shivering. With any luck, on his part, she wouldn't even remember what he told her.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the coming of a headache. His temples pulsated painfully and he winced. He couldn't remember the last time he had such a headache; he used to get them often when he was younger. His mother would stay up late with him, soothingly rubbing his temples with her cool fingertips. When she died, his sister took her place, her fingers warm and calloused compared to their mother's soft hands.

He tapped his foot and stood up, clutching his head with one hand. The room spun and he groaned in annoyance. He discarded his book carelessly in his chair before stumbling out of his library. He leaned against the wall of the hallway, noiselessly sliding against it on his way to the kitchen.

The kitchen was dark, the only light coming from the moon. He opened cabinet after cabinet, grumbling,

"Where did I put the Skullcap?"

He moved teabags out of the way until he found the teabag of Skullcap. Ophelia had given it to him when she found out about his headaches.

"Just a cup of Skullcap tea and you'll be as right as rain!" She had proclaimed.

She had been right, of course; she was certainly an adept herbalist. Death grabbed his mug and stood by the hearth, waiting for the water to heat. Once it was heated enough, he dropped the teabag in the steaming mug and idly stirred with his index finger.

Perhaps he should have kept Ophelia awake in case her condition worsened? She seemed too complacent with her sister's death, something he found odd. He knew she was very accepting and understanding of death, but surely she had some sour feelings about it? He certainly would be beside himself if he witnessed his own sister's death, but then quickly took the thought back. Miata wouldn't be easily killed. She, like all Shinigami, was sturdier than a human and it wasn't right to compare her to Beatrice. Death had a feeling Beatrice went down willingly, while Miata would fight to the death.

Death took a sip of his tea and sighed, the effects instantaneous. As his headache melted away, Death thought of his sister. She was a couple hundred years older than him, the former favored child of Shi only to fall from his grace when Death had been born. He always felt she resented him to an extent for it, but he couldn't have helped it and if he could, he would have been content being the weaker one. He hadn't seen her in centuries, the two going their separate ways when she stormed out so long ago after a disagreement with Shi. He didn't miss her; when he looked back, they weren't very close. Yet, as he thought of her, a feeling of fondness filled him and he knew he did love his sister, even if she made it difficult.

He was so deep in his thoughts, it took him a few minutes to realize the serenity of the night had been shattered by a wail. He started, nearly dropping his mug in the process, and cursed audibly when some of the hot tea splashed his bare foot. Death froze to listen, his manor so silent, and the wail started up again. It was high pitched, the voice cracking and faltering at the end. He hastily placed his mug on the stone counter and sprinted to his bedroom.

Ophelia was writhing, her back arched painfully. She was gripping the sheets tightly, her head thrown back as she screamed. Death was by her side in a moment, scooping her up in his arms. She was damp with sweat and her eyes snapped open, wide and terrified. She struggled against him, not immediately recognizing him or where she was, but he only hugged her tighter. He gently rocked her back and forth.

"Shh, it's alright, Ophelia, it was just a dream." He murmured by her ear soothingly, using his real voice.

Her struggling ceased, but she remained disquiet, tears streaming down her face in clear rivulets. She was trembling as she clung to him, her whole body quaking violently. Her breath was coming out in short, panicky bursts, her chest heaving.

"Deep, slow breaths, Ophelia..." He mimicked what he wanted her to do, nodding encouragingly when she began to do so.

She wretched and he released his hold on her as she rushed to the window, vomiting. He went to stand behind her, gathering her sweaty locks from her face, and holding them for her. She vomited until all that came up was bile. She sank to the floor, her teeth chattering and her eyes darting around feverishly. Death placed a cool hand against her forehead, frowning when he felt how burning hot her skin was. Yet, she shivered like she was cold. He scooped her up, carefully placing her back on the bed.

"I'll be back." He disappeared into the bathroom, grabbing a cloth.

He went to the kitchen and dipped the cloth in the bucket of water he had near the hearth. He wrung the excess water out, grabbed a glass of water, and returned to the bedroom. Ophelia was where he had left her, face tilted toward him. He lovingly placed the frore cloth on her forehead. He slipped his arm behind her neck and slowly lifted her head up, holding the glass to her lips.

"Drink slowly." He cautioned, tilting the glass.

She drank weakly, coughing once. "B-B-Bea..."

His heart gave a pang. "I feared it would affect you this way...I should have given you something before I left you."

She didn't say anything more, pushing the glass away. She whimpered, "I-I dreamed of her d-death...and mine..."

He pushed her hair out of her face. "I won't let anything happen to you, Ophelia. I promise you."

She clutched at his arm. "S-stay; I-I'm frightened..."

Death nodded and allowed her to pull him into the bed. Her febrile skin was uncomfortable against his own, but he ignored his own discomfort. He hugged her close to his body, pulling the covers over both of them. Ophelia's warm breath brushed his neck as she sighed deeply. Her body began to grow languid and once more she was asleep. He remained awake, watching her face. Her brow was furrowed with worry and the muscles in her face would occasionally twitch, a breathless cry escaping her lips.

It was a long night and for the first time in years, Death wished he could sleep. If only to escape the apprehension he felt as he watched her suffer.


	11. Cause of Grief

**8888Dearie8888- Yay! The plight is over!...FOR NOW!**

**VioletDawn00- T.T I feel so bad for her**

**Mewtwo3642- T.T Me too**

**Imaginefun- XD I'm just good at invoking emotion from you, huh?**

**GigiandMad- Lol, actually Skullcap is an plant. It is used in medical herbalism to relieve headaches**

**Alrighty, onto the story! I'm personally kind of proud of this chapter ^^ Hope you all like it, too!**

* * *

Dawn's first rays of light touched Death's face. He grimaced slightly, the light burning his eyes. He shut them, breathing deeply. He was suddenly aware of the sweltering body pressed against his, a gentle weight on his chest. Something soft tickled his skin. He sighed, long strands of hair fluttering against his lips. The scent of sickness was pungent, too sweet. It made him open his eyes again.

"Ophelia?" He whispered, his voice hoarse.

She nestled closer to him, burying her face in the smooth flesh of his chest. He reached over and ran a hand through her damp locks, causing her to stir more. An eye peeked at him.

"I must get up, Ophelia. How do you feel?" He inquired softly, frowning when he felt her burning forehead.

"H-horrible..." She croaked.

Death carefully sat up and she moved her head from his chest to the pillow. He swung himself out of bed, the air suddenly chilly after having her leaning against him all night. She shivered and he tucked her in, smoothing her hair once more.

"I'll go to the Apothecary and get medicine for you."

"No, p-please don't leave!" She pled, abruptly looking panicked. "I-if I'm alone, the monster will get me!"

His heart hurt. "You might die if I don't get you medicine. How about if I have someone watch you while I'm gone?"

She seemed reluctant, eyes fearful, but she finally consented. "C-can it be Nadine?"

"Of course." He smiled reassuringly at her before turning around.

He grabbed his robe, throwing it on. The fluid-like material was soothing, familiar as he went to the library to retrieve his mask. It was where he had placed it, on the table beside his armchair. He slipped it over his face and went to the large full body mirror in the room. He exhaled, fogging the surface of the mirror.

"'42-42-564...'" He mumbled.

The mirror trembled and Nadine appeared in its reflection. "Good morning, Nadine. I hope you slept well?" He didn't bother disguising his voice.

She nodded. He continued, "Ophelia has fallen ill and I must get her medicine. She doesn't want to be alone and I would like for you to come to Gallows Manor and protect her while I am out."

Another affirmative nod. "Excellent. Please come as soon as possible."

Nadine gave a salute and the mirror trembled again. Death's reflection returned. He went back to his bedroom, carefully peering in. Ophelia was sleeping once more, her slim figure rising and falling steadily with each little breath. He walked silently over to the nightstand to open one of the drawers. He pulled a coin purse out and counted how much gold he had, pleased to see he had more than enough to purchase the medicine she would need.

He didn't know much about illness, only that, if left untreated, could be fatal to humans. He himself had never suffered from sickness, all Shinigami possessed highly potent immune systems and bodies that filtered any diseases and poisons. True, the only symptom of disease Death could confidently recognize was a fever. He almost felt ashamed of his imcompetence. How was he supposed to protect Ophelia when he didn't even know what ailed her?

Ophelia gave a little whimper, a tear escaping from her closed eyelid. He tenderly wiped it away, studying the pearl. He hated to see her cry; it was one of the sights he couldn't bear. He rubbed the tear against his fingers.

A gentle knock came from the doorway. He looked up and saw Nadine standing there, her head bowed in respect.

"Come in." He whispered as he stood up, looking at Ophelia nervously when she tossed restlessly.

Nadine obeyed, taking his place at the chair. "Have you taken care of the funeral arrangements?"

She gave a grunt. Death nodded. "I'll return as soon as possible."

He whisked out of his room and house. The town was alive, still unaware of the loss of life last night. The children ran past, shrieking happily as they headed to the Academy. They greeted him buoyantly, alarmed when he didn't return their enthusiasm in his own salutation. He came to the building where the Apothecary was and opened the door, ducking under the small doorway.

The Apothecary, a stooped over old man, was humming mindlessly, seemingly alphabetizing his supplies. Death chose to watch him, amused when the old man dropped a bowl and uttered a withered curse. He bent over and picked it up, straightening up with a ruddy face. Then he noticed Death standing in the doorway, blocking out the morning light with his frame. He startled, placing a hand over his heart.

"L-Lord Death! Please don't startle me like that; my old heart can't take surprises, you know!" The old man chided, smiling nonetheless.

Death bowed his head with sheepish extenuation. "Forgive me, Apothecary, I did not mean to frighten you."

"Think nothing of it, my lord. Is there something you need?"

"Yes, last night Ophelia and her sister were attacked by an evil human. Her sister was killed and Ophelia has fallen ill. She shiver as though she is cold, but her skin is burning to the touch. She is lethargic and weak." He summarized.

The Apothecary turned around to face his supplies, moving through shelves, grabbing various items. "I see...has she been sick?"

"Yes and earlier she complained of her body aching." Death replied.

"Let me see...elderberry should do the trick...Yes, elderberry should definitely help, but it will not cure her."

Death frowned. "What do you mean?"

The Apothecary grabbed a couple branches of the elderberry. "She is suffering from grief. The only thing that can heal that is closure. Ophelia is fortunate; she is very accepting of the nature of death, so accepting her sister's death shouldn't take long. If I had to estimate, I'd say a week, two at the most. In the meantime, here." He held out the branches.

Death took them, eyeing the dark purple berries. They were small and he doubted their usefulness.

"She must eat five every six hours for the next few days. If things get worse, please return."

"Here." Death handed him several gold coins.

The Apothecary took them gratefully and bowed as low as he could. "Thank you for your business, Lord Death. I hope Ophelia feels better soon."

"As do I. Thank you for your service." Death returned the bow with a nod of his head and left the building.

Grief? Was it possible? It certainly was a concept foreign to him. He had never experienced it. He hadn't been there when his parents died, only knowing of Shi's death when the scythe appeared before him. He didn't even know when his mother had died. Ophelia's reaction was perplexing; he had never seen a human actually get physically ill from grief. After witnessing it wreaking havoc on her body, Death was terrified of it. Grief was like a poison, he realized, a poison he hoped wouldn't be lethal to Ophelia.

The fact grief was something unfamiliar to him scared him. He wished Eibon was there to explain to him in that calm, blase way he had about him. It was a trait of his old friend's he was envious of; the wizard could look at any situation and come up with the best decision, regardless of his own feelings. Death was emotional, impulsive, two things he still needed to work on.

Nadine was candidly sitting in the chair beside the bed still, looking as though she hadn't moved since she had gotten there. Ophelia was still sleeping, a damp cloth on her forehead. His partner looked up sharply when she heard him enter and stood up, bowing to him. She looked at the elderberries he was clutching like they were a lifeline.

"He said grief is what ails her. The only thing that can cure that is closure, but elderberry should help with her fever and other afflictions." He answered her unspoken question softly.

She blinked owlishly at him and jerked her head in the direction of the Academy. "Yes, you are dismissed."

She bowed once more and walked quietly out of the room, turning around once to glance worriedly at Ophelia. When he was certain she was gone, Death removed his mask and set the berries on his desk. He plucked five off and went to Ophelia's side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, carefully lifting her up. She gave a weak whine of protest, her sickly eyes opening.

"I need you to eat these; they'll make you feel better." He murmured, holding up one of the berries.

She parted her dry lips and he popped one in her mouth. She chewed slowly, her brow wrinkling with distaste. "I know they must taste awful, but I'll give you some tea with honey afterwards, alright?"

Seeming to perk up at the idea of tea, Ophelia willingly ate the remaining berries without complaint. He helped her lie back down again.

"I'll get the tea for you right away." He whisked out of the room and to the kitchen.

A boiling pot of water was already waiting for him and he sent a silent thanks to Nadine. He grabbed the last of his chamomile, stirring it in the mug of hot water. He went to the shelf where he kept his herbs and spices and grabbed the vial of honey. He spooned out some and stirred that into the tea as well.

It was almost amusing to him, how accommodating he was to do such a mundane thing for her. Had it been anyone else, he doubted he would show such kindness.

Death returned to the room with the steaming mug and set it on the night table. "Drink it slowly and carefully; it's very hot."

Ophelia sat up anemically, grabbing the mug. She held it in her hands for a few moments, eyes closed. "T-the warmth...it feels nice...L-like Bea..."

Her bottom lip trembled and she bit it. He sat beside her and rubbed her back soothingly. "I wish I could say I know how you feel, but I don't. I wasn't close to anyone in my family, but I wish I had been. I'm almost curious to experience the pain you are feeling because it would mean that person was precious to me."

She took a sip and winced when the scalding liquid burned her lips. She set the mug back down and pressed her lips against her necklace. "Y-you don't want to feel this...it hurts so much. It feels like a part of me has been ripped out."

He regarded the analogy quietly. "I'd take that pain as a good thing. You loved your sister very much. She died knowing that. She died protecting her big sister and I bet that knowledge made her happy."

Ophelia clasped her hands tightly in her lap, the tendons in her hands taut. Her eyes watered. "I'm her older sister; _I_ should have been the one to protect her! I'll never forgive myself for this!"

Her body shook as a sob forced itself out of her chest. Death moved his hand up to her shoulder, gripping it firmly. "Ophelia, you must accept this. If you don't, you are giving yourself to madness. Life is filled with death. You understand that, I know you do, don't let the death of someone important to you cloud who you are."

She whimpered and looked up at him. She looked so tired and world-worn. He let himself frown with concern. Then, she did something that surprised him.

She smiled. Albeit the smile was weak and tiny, it was genuine.

"You're right," she said, "I'll just have her death make me stronger. So that I can protect the person precious to me."


	12. The Road to Improvement

**Imaginefun- XD your reviews are fine!**

**Mewtwo3642- Geethanks :3**

**8888Dearie8888- Yess, you got it!**

**GigiandMad- Actually, it is possible to be physically ill from grief (hence, "sick with grief"). Thank you!**

**Confetti108- Thanks!**

**T.T This made me kind of sad to write, but I really like the end; it cheered me up ;3 you'll see why~!**

**I do not own Soul Eater!**

* * *

The sky was neutral. It was neither raining nor was the sun out. There was overcast and it felt to him as though the sky did not know how to address this day. Was it a sad occasion for the loss of life, or a happy one for that life was now starting a new beginning? Like the sky, Death was unsure of how to feel. He had not known Beatrice long, but he was somewhat saddened by her death. He now appreciated human life, seeing it as valuable as a precious stone. While he was not mourning, having not been touched by grief, he certainly was not in a good mood. It was a sort of melancholy limbo in which he would only feel better once Ophelia did.

The burial of Beatrice was that sunless and rainless Tuesday morning. While the invitation had been extended to all of the townspeople, only a few people had shown up. The people who did not attend didn't do so out of disrespect; rather, it was _out of_ respect they did not show up. They felt Ophelia would feel overwhelmed by the numerous strangers. So, the people who came to pay their respects were Ophelia, Death, Nadine, and a handful of students and children who had latched onto Ophelia. They felt her pain as though it was their own. To Death, it was moving.

She stood beside him, her trembling hands clenched tightly together. In them were poppies. Their meaning, he knew, was "eternal sleep." He kept his own hands clasped in front of him, head tucked in respect as the wooden coffin was placed in the ground. The priest was going through the prayer, his withered voice floating somberly through the air. But, Death wasn't paying attention to the blessing of Beatrice's body; he was more concerned about Ophelia.

After accepting her sister's death, Ophelia slowly began to get better. Her fever broke that night and she stopped shivering. It was almost as if her will was killing the sickness. The funeral, though, seemed to be taking its toll on her. She was still weakened from her illness, but she refused any help from him.

Currently, her gaze was fixated on the dirt hitting the coffin with muffled thuds. She shed a few tears, wiping away each one as they descended down her pale cheeks, but she had a faint smile.

Yet, he knew something inside her was shattered. He didn't know what part yet, but he had a sense of foreboding dread it was a part not easily mended.

"...Amen. Requiescat in pace." The priest made the sign of the cross and shut the bible. The men burying the coffin ceased, their job complete.

Death mumbled the same incoherently, following the others' example in making the cross. Ophelia sniffled as the people and priest quietly left, leaving her and Death alone. She walked to the grave and lightly traced her sister's name.

"I'll miss you, Bea. Thank you for always being there for me." She leaned down, placed the poppies against the gravestone, and kissed it.

He hung back, not wanting to encroach on her mourning. He stood as still as a statue until she came back over to him. She looked tired, but her eyes were dry and she looked up at him gratefully.

"I want to thank you, Death. You were there for me."

He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. "You don't need to thank me. I may not fully understand how you felt, I never want to see you in pain."

She hugged his arm and murmured, "I'm so tired; I just want this day to be over. Walk me back home?"

"Of course." He let her hang onto his arm as they walked. He kept his pace slow when she noticed her feet dragging slightly in the dirt.

"Death? Will you tell me about your sister?" Ophelia suddenly asked.

He paused, uncertain. She would most likely never meet his sister, at least he hoped she wouldn't, and almost asked her why she'd like to know before he came to the conclusion himself.

"What would you like to know?" She looked up at the gray sky in thought.

"Well...what does she look like?"

Death pondered the question, trying to remember what his sister looked like. He was mildly bothered by the fact he couldn't remember much. "I haven't seen her in centuries and my last memory of her is fuzzy; I hadn't been much older than seventeen. I suppose she has black hair and, as I've mentioned before, one Line of Sanzu. As for her eyes..."

He furrowed his brow, struggling to remember. "She either has gold eyes or red eyes. Most likely gold as that is the common eye color for Shinigami. Honorable Father was the one with red eyes. Our mother had the most beautiful golden eyes; like melted topaz."

Ophelia looked up at him. "What is her personality?"

"Brash," he said automatically, "and stubborn enough to butt heads with Honorable Father. No, maybe not stubborn...stupid. No one dared to speak to him the way she did, not even our mother. My sister is definitely one not to be trifled with. She has an even more negative concept of humans than I ever did. I guess that is where she is more like Honorable Father than me. He despised humans with every fiber of his being."

"She sounds very frightening." She admitted. "What's her name?"

"Miata. I wouldn't worry about her; I'm not sure if she's even still alive."

Ophelia frowned. "But, wouldn't you gain her Line if she died?"

He looked down at her incredulously. Was that possible? "Huh, you know, I've never thought about that before. You may be right."

She momentarily looked smug before asking, "How much older is she than you?"

"Two hundred years. I believe her six hundredth is nearing soon, actually. If I knew where she was located, I'd send her a birthday present." He added the last sentence bitterly, a tone which Ophelia picked up on.

"Did you two not get along?" He shook his head.

"No, it's not that. She holds resentment toward me because I am more powerful, despite being the younger one. When she stormed out, I can't remember, but I get the sense she and Honorable Father were arguing because of me. She hated living in my shadow." He replied, his voice losing its bitterness.

Ophelia nodded like she understood, but he knew she didn't. She and her sister hadn't been acrimonious rivals fighting for power and their father's acknowledgment. They got to her house and Death walked her inside.

"If you start to feel worse again, use your mirror to contact me. You know the-"

"Yes, I do." She smiled, the smile not quite reaching her eyes.

He let his thumb brush her cheek. Her smile softened and he retracted his hand. "I'll be at the Academy if you need me."

"Yes, yes, go already!" She made a shooing motion, to which he chuckled softly.

"That desperate to get rid of me, hmm? One of your suitors must be coming." He tantalized, keeping his tone light.

She rolled her eyes. "What would they want with an old bird like me? Besides, you're the only one for me."

Her honesty surprised him and he gaped at her. At first he thought she was teasing, but the expression on her face said otherwise. She was looking at him confidently, a somewhat challenging glint in her eyes. With a growl, Death removed his mask, daringly kissing her. He heard her breath hitch and he pulled away. She pressed her hand to her mouth, staring up at him jarringly. He winked and replied, "As you are the only one for me, my love."


	13. Primrose

**GigiandMad- ^^" I guess I'm glad I had to make you look up the words haha**

**Mewtwo3642- For now... *waggles eyebrows***

**Imaginefun- Oh god, did I make your cuteness meter explode into cupcakes and puppies again? o.o**

**VioletDawn00- Yeahh it was pretty fluffy :3**

**Confetti108- Thank you!**

**Sorry it took a week (I think), I wasn't too sure how to progress this chapter, but I'm pleased with it! Enjoy!**

* * *

The years melted into decades as he once again lost track of time. He had partner after partner, their names and faces blending into each other. The town grew larger, cobblestone in place of dirt, bricks instead of wood. "Town" wasn't even the proper word now; it was "city." The once nameless town was now called, "Death City" for the Shinigami residing there, its prominence flying through the world. The landscape shifted, becoming hot and arid. He started to build a wall around the the city to keep the sand from eroding the buildings away too quickly.

The only constant was Ophelia. Initially, he had been apprehensive; what if she did die of old age? When her hundred twentieth birthday loomed around the corner, he was confident in her "immortality." And with that confidence, came the thing he had been putting off for nearly fifty years.

"I'm telling ya, sir, ya should really consider moving Chloe from Europe to Oceania; her partner thinks she is being overworked. I mean, Europe is a pretty big place not to mention Chloe's always out on missions. Oceania is small; perfect for a rookie Death Scythe!" His partner was prattling on.

His current partner was androgynous and Death, embarrassingly could not discern what his (her?) gender was. It seemed no one knew for everyone always called his partner "him." His partner never said anything about it, so maybe it was accurate. His name gave no hint to his gender, either; his name being Rowan.

Rowan was dressed in head to toe black with most of his face hidden. His turtleneck covered up to his nose and he had black goggles shielding his eyes. His blond hair was cut close to his scalp. He was lithe, almost feminine in build, but spoke in an uncouth way that Death felt was masculine. He had known Rowan since he was a child and not once had he seen him without his odd clothing and goggles.  
Death hummed absentmindedly, not bothering to pay attention as Rowan read mission requests._ What flower would be appropriate? Definietly not poppies..._

"...think it would be a two star mission. Also-huh? Oi! Ya listenin' to me?!" A shoe smacked into Death's head, startling him out of his daydreaming.

"Wha-How dare you throw a shoe at me?! Where did it even come from?!" Death glared, trying to aim a Reaper chop.

Rowan blocked the Chop with ease, having grown used to Death's countless attempts at knocking his head about, and grabbed his shoe. "It came from my foot, o'course."

"Watch it." Death warned half heartedly, withdrawing his hand. He settled back and took a sip of his cooling tea.

"So, is it Missy Ophelia who has ya so distracted from yer duties?" Rowan asked, sitting cross legged across from his meister.

He twitched at the mention of her name, unable to stop the smile from crawling its way across his face. "Don't be silly."

"Oh please," Rowan scoffed, "ya been pinin' for her since I was a student here. When are ya gonna ask her to marry ya?"

Death sputtered and waved his hand in dismissal. "I have no intention of asking her to marry me. We are both content with our relationship as is. There is no need to make such a radical change."  
"Sir, how long ya been with her?"

Death grumbled as he calculated the years. "I don't remember. Does it matter?"

"Yeah, it does. A lady wants to get married right quick, if ya lost count o' the years, maybe it's time to propose." Rowan suggested.

"I don't know if that is what I want, let alone what Ophelia wants. She hasn't hinted anything." Death frowned. He almost wished he had cared enough to listen to his mother talk of how Shi proposed to her. He doubted it would be useful to him, though; Shi probably presented her the soul of an enemy.

"Women ain't gonna hint anythin'. They want ya to be...what's the word? 'Spontanuoues?'" Rowan scratched his head.

"'Spontaneous.'" Death corrected automatically, a habit he unwittingly picked up from Ophelia.

Rowan waved his hand carelessly. "Anyway, just do it, sir. I betcha she'll say yes. Ya got nothin' to lose!"

"Except a good friend." Death answered dryly.

"She won't just leave ya, sir. Missy Ophelia ain't like that."

Sometimes, Death envied his partner for his relaxed view of the world. It was simple for Rowan: nothing had a negative. Death wondered what it was like to see the world positively with no gray areas in between. It was a child's perspective, granted, but a perspective Death longed to witness.

"Perhaps you are right, Rowan. I will consider it. Now, back to business. What about the two star mission?" Death poured himself another cup of tea.

Rowan's cheeks lifted, the only way to tell when he was smiling, and opened his file again. "Right. In the Vatican City, cardinals an' such have been disappearin' and their bodies found a few days later. No can seem ta find the kishin egg, but there's a consistent area where-"

"Send Nike and Rachel." Death cut him off.

"Sure they're up ta it?"

Death nodded. "It will be fine. I will watch over their mission progression."

"Alright. I'll tell 'em now." Rowan saluted him and ran out of the Death Room, leaving Death alone.

He sighed and stood up, his legs protesting after being tucked beneath his body for so long. He moved his mask to rub his weary eyes, wishing for the umpteenth time he could sleep. The Death Room was silent, a truly deafening absence. He placed his hands on his lower back and leaned backward, popping his vertebrae with a satisfied grunt. He thought of taking up qigong, an exercise one of his Chinese students showed him to relax after she politely realized he seemed tense. Ophelia tried it and found it to be very soothing indeed, her demeanor even more gentle than it usually is after doing the exercise.

At the thought of Ophelia, his shoulders tensed again. He cared for her, wanting nothing but the best for her, and if he was going to do it, he intended to do it right. A simple ring wouldn't cut it. And it most certainly could not be gold (not only did Death detest gold, Ophelia had mentioned before she found gold to be a loathsome and vain metal), but silver was no better. He didn't know what her favorite gemstone was and reluctantly decided to guess and hope he was right. Now, he wondered about flowers.

Over the years, his own plant knowledge had gotten better; to the point he could tell the meaning of a flower without Ophelia's help. He decided on primrose (eternal love). The town florist, if he remembered correctly, had just gotten primrose and if he hurried, he would get them. For some reason Death did not understand, primrose was on high demand. They were in season and everyone in the city squabbled over the flowers. Even gentle Ophelia was known to elbow someone in the gut to get her share of the rare flora.

Death glanced out the tiny window on the northwest wall to determine the time of day, his only way of telling time. The sun was falling into late afternoon where the heat of the day had passed. Deciding his presence wasn't urgently needed, he slipped out of the Death Room.

The halls of the school were quiet, the only noise coming from the closed classroom doors where teachers were lecturing. It was strange; whenever he left the Death Room, the halls were flocked with children waiting to wish him a nice day before they headed home like he was. The change was nice enough, but he decided he liked their farewells better.

He exited his school without incident and decided to stop first at the Jeweler. He entered her store, the little bell ringing to signify his entrance. She was looking at a diamond, turning it this way and that, but paused to peer at him from behind her large glasses.

"Oh, hello, Lord Death! How may I help you?" She said warmly, placing the diamond down to bow to him.

Suddenly embarrassed, Death poked his index fingers together. "Well, I would like two rings to be made."

A knowing smile bloomed across the Jeweler's face. "Really? What would you like the material of the ring to be?"

"Definitely not gold or silver," he wrinkled his nose at the very thought, "I've always liked onyx...Would it be possible to forge to rings out of that?"

The Jeweler frowned thoughtfully. "I'm not sure; it's never been done before. I'll try my best, though! Would you like it engraved?"

He shook his head. "No, that's alright. Can the stone on top be garnet? I think she likes garnet."

"Of course, Lord Death! Ring sizes?"

"E-erm, I believe she is a three and I am a ten."

"I will start on the rings immediately!" She beamed.

Death pulled out a handful of coins, giving them to her. "That should cover the cost, I think."

She nodded enthusiastically. "This is more than enough! The rings should be done in a couple days; I'll send a courier to you when they are ready. Thank you for coming!"

He nicely bade her a good day and left the shop. He walked across the city to the florist where, unsurprisingly, people were nearing blows over the primrose. As he drew nearer he was shocked to see Ophelia in the middle of it, furiously clawing at another woman's hair.

"Back off, lady, I saw the damn flower first! Now, let go of my hair or I'm going to shove my foot clear up your-" She screeched, face bright red.

Death was torn between laughing or splitting her head open for fighting over a flower. "Where did you learn such vulgar language?"

Ophelia looked up at the sound of his voice and she grinned sheepishly. "Hey, Death, fancy seeing you here."

"Lord Death?!" The other woman released Ophelia's hair and straightened up, looking perturbed at being caught by the Shinigami in such a state.

He shook his head. "Ophelia, when are you going to learn? Don't you know it's impolite for a lady to fight in such an unorthodox manner?"

She fixed her tangled up hair, tucking it behind her ears, and gave an uncaring shrug. "You know how I get with flowers, especially primrose!"

The other people backed off as Death drew closer. "I will buy the flowers for you. Not all of them, of course, but a small bouquet. Does that satisfy my love?"

Her smiled softened, pleased. "That would be nice."

He turned to the cowering florist, who peeked nervously over the edge of his counter, straightening up as soon as he saw Death. "O-oh, hello, Lord Death!"

"Good afternoon," he greeted, "I would like to purchase a small bouquet of primrose."

"Right away, sir!" The florist ducked back into his stand, re-emerging with the flowers.

Death handed him a couple of coins and took the bouquet. Ophelia reached for them eagerly, but he pulled them back out of her reach. She glared at him when he wagged his finger at her.

"Uh-uh. Not so fast~! You don't get these for another couple of days!"

She huffed and crossed her arms indignantly. "And why not?"

He bounced excitedly, "That's for me to know and for you to find out!"


	14. And the Answer Is!

**8888Dearie8888- Oh, god, I'm killing everyone with the cuteness it seems!**

**Lanny-Sama- I'm glad my transition with Death's personality is smooth ^^**

**VioletDawn00- If he does that is fantastic XD**

**general zargon- You know what? I'm pretty curious about it myself! XD**

**MewTwo3642- He's got the moves~!**

**Confetti108- Thanks!**

**Imaginefun- Of course I remembered your cupcakes and puppies, I quote you on that in rl! And right?! If I get married I want that!**

**GigiandMad- Not giving it away~! But you'll be happy with this chapter, I'm sure!**

**Alrighty, here's the next one!**

* * *

Death felt the outline of the ring in his pocket nervously for the fifth time. He was worried the ring would fall out. He had just left the Jeweler's store with the two rings. He kept Ophelia's in his right pocket, his more guarded side, and his own in his left pocket.

The past couple days, she begged for the primrose, but he refused each time, telling her they would be worth the wait. She would get the flowers later tonight after they had dinner at her home. At first, he tried to insist he make dinner, even though he had no cooking skills whatsoever, but she remembered the incident where he almost burnt down his home vividly. She made up the rule "Death is not allowed in the kitchen unless it is to make tea, because you make really good tea."

It was late afternoon (three hours until he would go to her house) and he was watching the progress of a pair of his newest students. It was a simple one star mission with the evil human hardly falling under the category of being a threat, but it needed to be weeded out while it was still weak.

"Ah, I remember my first mission. T'was a real nuisance; ya gave me and my meister a toughie. Nearly broke my handle off, the bastard." He could feel Rowan glaring at him.

Death sighed in annoyance. "You're never going to forgive me for that, are you? The fact is the previous Death Scythe was able to get there before your spine was broken in half, shouldn't you be expressing a little more gratitude?"

"Oh, yeah, thanks, sir, fer tryin' ta kill me!" Rowan groused, folding his arms across his chest.

Death shook his head and focused back on the students. They had destroyed the target, the weapon absorbing the evil human's soul.

"I missed it. Darn you, Rowan, with your complaining! Now I don't know if they belong in the higher classes or not." He lifted his hand up and successfully landed a Reaper Chop.

Rowan rubbed his aching head. "Ouch. Ya didn't give me a chance ta block!"

"Why would I when I intended to hurt you?" He asked rhetorically.

He felt Rowan glare at him, but paid him no mind. His mirror made a ringing noise, the sound it made when one of his students wanted to reach him. He allowed the call to come in.

One of his older students, a boy named Jacob, saluted him. "Staff Meister Jacob reporting in, Lord Death!"

Death waved his hand. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Mission was a success, Lord Death; we have collected our ninety-ninth kishin egg soul." He answered, his light eyes gleaming with excitement.

His partner, a tall boy named Gabriel, stood beside him, beaming just as widely as Jacob.

"Great; I'm proud of the two of you for our hard work! Please return to the academy and rest up before I send you out to get the witch soul." He replied, genuinely happy for his students' success.

The two boys saluted him again. "Right away, Lord Death!"

They faded out and Death's reflection returned. Rowan stood a couple feet behind him, head tilted to the side in thought.

"I remember those two; came 'ere a couple years after me. Weird kids."

Death chose not to respond, finding the observation not worth responding to, and looked up at the window. The sky was beginning to darken. He turned to look at Rowan.

"The students have likely gone to their homes for the day. I will do the same and so should you." Death suggested, walking down the platform.

"Yeah, 'm pretty tired." Rowan yawned and jogged beside Death, following him out of the Room.

Death moved quickly through the halls toward the exit, growing steadily more anxious with each step.

Rowan, noticing his meister barely crossing the threshold of a power walk, remarked, "Someone's in a rush. Gotta date or somethin'?"

"No." He lied. He didn't want or need Rowan knowing what he was planning; the Death Scythe would only tell everyone in the city.

"Why don't I believe ya?"

"That's your issue if you cannot trust your meister." Death shrugged, stepping out one of the doors.

"Whatever. G'night, sir!" Rowan yelled over his shoulder, running down the steps.

Death waited until Rowan's wavelengths were far enough away before removing his mask and robe. Beneath his robe, he had on his usual suit with his skull tie slightly askew. He adjusted it nervously before shoving his hands in his pockets, feeling the two rings. He pressed his thumb against the gemstone of his own ring. When he was certain they weren't going to fall out of a nonexistent hole in his pockets, he continued walking, his steps falling silent on the stone.

The night air was cool against his skin and he subconsciously shivered. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt a breeze against his bare skin. Perhaps when he was a boy? He scratched his head, frowning when he couldn't come up with an estimation, then decided it wasn't important. All that mattered was he was experiencing it once more.

He kept to the shadows and avoided the more busy streets, freezing and holding his breath when he heard someone coming his way. At one point he even used his shadows to cover his body, making him blend in with the building he was pressed against during the time. He chuckled silently to himself, feeling like a spy.

The wind blew his hair back and he instinctively grabbed the long locks and stopped walking, frowning. Shinigami hair rarely, if ever, changed. If it was to be cut, it would just grow to the length it was before in just a matter of seconds. Yet, for some reason, his hair was shoulder length; a good few inches longer than his preferred style. He found it not only irritating, but puzzling. Though Ophelia had only seen him like this once before, he didn't think it bothered her, but if it did, he wouldn't mind cutting it again. He could only hope, however, his hair would stay the length it was cut.

Her house came into sight and he quickened his steps once more. Just a few more steps. He pushed open the gate door. The door was getting closer. He knocked and smoothed his hair down anxiously.

"Coming!" He heard her quick footsteps. She was eager.

Death held his breath as she opened the door and peered up at him, surprised. "Death? You walked here without your mask or robe?"

"Surprise." He said with amusement. She smiled and stepped aside so he could come inside. "I just finished up making dinner; come before it gets cold!"

She closed the door behind him and ran to the kitchen, her bare feet muffled on the wooden floorboards. Death went to the table and saw it was set, the candles lit. He chuckled when he saw a vase filled with water but no flowers waiting covetously for the primrose. He pulled the flowers out from his robe carefully and took out Ophelia's ring. He slid it onto the stems so that it was the sole thing keeping the primrose together. He sat at the table with the primrose concealed on his lap.

"I hope you like cooked venison; there wasn't much pick at the market this morning." She placed the cut meat on the table in front of him.

"Venison is more than fine." He reassured her, smiling slightly as he studied her.

She was wearing a light blue dress, the skirt of which brushed against the floor. The sleeves were short, stopping at the beginning of her shoulders. The choker he gave her was around her neck, the skull glimmering proudly against her alabaster skin. Her wavy brown hair, now mid-back, was pulled to the side, a white dahlia tucked behind her left ear.

"You look beautiful." He said earnestly.

Ophelia's face flushed pleasantly. "Thank you. You look nice, too."

She sat across from him and held her hand out for his plate. He gave it to her, watching her place two pieces of meat on it before spooning some fresh carrots onto the plate beside it. He took his plate back with a grunt of thanks. He waited until she had her food before cutting up some of the venison and eating it. The meat was seasoned with salt and pepper and seemed to melt on his tongue like butter. While he was only eating to entertain the idea he was human, he wouldn't mind eating venison again.

"How is it?" She asked, chewing her own meat thoughtfully.

"Delicious." He praised, smiling around his bite.

She smiled back, forking another piece. "I'm glad."

The remainder of their dinner was quiet, the two not finding it necessary to speak about meaningless things. They were comfortable enough with each other to not talk just to fill the silence. He helped her clear the table despite her protests.

"So, where are my primrose? You know that's the only reason why I invited you here." She demanded, her smile giving her away.

Death placed his hand over his heart and swooned. "Ah, you've wounded me with your cruel words!"

Ophelia laughed and gently pushed him. The nervousness returned and he cleared his throat awkwardly. He pulled the primrose out and handed them to her. She took them excitedly, but furrowed her brow when she felt something lightly jab her palm. She gripped the primrose higher on their stems and noticed the ring. She gaped at it before slowly looking at Death, expecting to look up at him. Instead, she looked down to see him on one knee before her. Her bottom lip quivered.

"D-Death? Did you drop something?" She asked weakly.

He shook his head and licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. "Ophelia, I love you with every fiber of my being. I would lay my life down for you. You mean more to me than anything. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Ophelia dropped the primrose and sank to her knees in front of him, her hands covering her mouth. Her watery blue eyes were filled with unshed tears. "You aren't joking?"

"I am dead serious." He answered somberly.

She threw her arms around his neck. "Yes. Of course I'll marry you!"

He fell back with the force of her hug and blinked in surprise. He was stiff in her arms for a moment before wrapping his own around her.

He couldn't keep the silly grin off his face as he placed the ring on her finger.

"I got the moves, baby!" He crowed in his ridiculous voice.


	15. He's A!

**GigiandMad- Venison is deer meat ^^" Never had it, but thought it would fit during the current time setting**

**Confetti108- XD They're both pretty funny**

**VioletDawn00- ^^ Yeahh it was kinda cute haha**

**Mewtwo3642- I concur =D**

**FilthyTricksyHobbitses- XD Lol I didn't even realize the pun until you pointed it out**

**Imaginefun- Glad you're honored ^^ And thank you kindly =D**

**Woo, sorry it took so long, I was too lazy ^^" Oh, did any of you read the latest chapter (108) of Soul Eater? HOLY CRAP! I'm not going to spoil it, but...yeah. Holy crap. Anyway, onto the story!**

* * *

Death sighed as he resisted the urge to massage his temples. This insufferable priest _just wasn't getting it._ He was going to try to explain it one more time before he would bash the holy man's skull in.

"I understand about marriage being a religious sanctity, however, I refuse to remove my mask during the ceremony. People will go mad if they see my face." He grated out through clenched teeth and barely concealed impatience.

The day after he proposed to her, the two made their announcement to the city. Their union had been met with approval and support from most of the residents, especially the former and current students of DWMA. All that was left was planning the wedding, which was certainly a taxing thing to Death. He was dragged throughout the city by Ophelia, speaking to potential guests and a priest.

The priest narrowed his eyes at the god. "Son, do you want to burn in hell for all eternity? It is a sin to where a mask in the church!"

Death twitched. He didn't recall anything like that being part of the bible. The old man just didn't like him._ Feeling's mutual, you wrinkly old bastard._

Ophelia decided to intervene, saying rather hastily, "Father, why not have the ceremony outside? I'm sure God wouldn't mind if the wedding was not in His holy walls."

Death looked at her appreciatively while the priest considered her suggestion. "...I suppose it can be done, but he's still going to burn in hell."

"REAPER-" Ophelia countered his rising hand with her own, slapping her palm against his. He looked at her in bewilderment while she shot him a warning glare. The priest remained oblivious.

"When would you like to get married?" He asked.

"In June; the flowers are absolutely beautiful during then." She smiled wistfully, already imagining all the flowers in bloom.

The priest nodded. "Very well. I'll plan it for the second week in June. God be with you."

He walked up the steps of the chapel shakily, clutching the rail. Death watched him and couldn't help but wish for the man to fall down the steps. He cackled evilly at the thought. _Yes, old man, fall...fall to your doom!_ Ophelia rose an eyebrow.

"You alright, Death?" She inquired. He stopped mid-cackle and smiled sheepishly.

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Good. Now, we just need to find you a Best Man." It was his turn to raise an eyebrow.

"You've already found a Maid of Honor?" Ophelia hummed in affirmation.

"Yeah; Rowan."

He blinked. She didn't mean his Rowan, did he? Was there another Rowan in the city? He didn't think so. He still asked dumbly, "Who?"

"Your partner, of course! I haven't gotten around to asking her yet, but I'm sure she'll say yes!"

"What? Rowan isn't a girl."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes she is! It's a shame; everyone calls her 'him' and she doesn't bother correcting them-"

"Ophelia. Rowan is a boy. I'm sure of it." Lie, but he didn't want to admit aloud he himself had no clue what his partner's gender was.

"Oh, really? Then, why does 'he' have a feminine body?"

"He doesn't. I don't see breasts." He replied flatly, already growing weary of the conversation.

Her face flushed a little and she planted her hands on her hips, glowering up at him. He folded his arms across his chest and stared right back at her. "So she's a little flat-chested, that doesn't mean she's not a girl!"

"No girl in her right mind would speak as crudely as Rowan does. Only a man would speak like that." He pointed out.

"She holds her silverware delicately like a girl." Ophelia rebutted.

"He spits like a man."

"She has a feminine walk!"

"His voice is too low to be a girl's!"

"She's a girl!"

"He's a boy!"

"Oi, whatcha talkin' bout?" The two nearly jumped out of their skins as the subject of their argument walked over to them.

Rowan tilted his head to the side curiously. Death recovered first, straightening up. "Nothing important."

Rowan snorted. "Seemed pretty important ta me; ya two were nearly jumpin' at each other's throats!"

"Just a lover's quarrel, Rowan; nothing to be worried about." Ophelia smiled reassuringly at him. "I was wondering if you'd like-"

Death covered her mouth before she finished the sentence. "...to be part of our wedding."

"I'd be honored, sir. What would I be doin'?"

He withheld a groan. Rowan just couldn't make it simple, could he? "We haven't thought about it yet, but it will be an important part."

"Like Best Man?"

"Or Maid of Honor." Ophelia quickly added, pushing Death's hand away. Rowan shrugged.

"Sounds good ta me. Lemme know more 'bout it when ya got it 'sitiated.' Have a nice day, you two." Rowan waved as he turned around and walked down the street.

The two waved before turning back on each other. "Why did you cover my mouth?!"

"You would have offended him by asking him to be your Maid of Honor! Did you notice he instantly assumed I'd ask him to be my Best Man?" Death answered snidely, certain he had won this argument.

She huffed. "That doesn't prove anything! You're a meister; shouldn't you be able to tell what Rowan's gender is by reading her soul wavelengths?"

"Soul wavelengths are androgynous." He said automatically.

"Should...should we just ask Rowan?"

Death shook his head swiftly. "We'd offend him if we asked! We're going to have to be sneaky about this!"

* * *

"Your idea of 'sneaky' is sending your students after her?!" Ophelia cried disapprovingly.

"I didn't hear you coming up with any better ideas. Besides, this helps their reconnaissance skills. Rowan can't pick up on soul wavelengths without me, so he won't be able to detect them unless he physically sees them."

She sighed and shook her head at him. "Sometimes, I question your methods. Isn't that abusing your power?"

He waved an uncaring hand at her. "Like I said, they're brushing up on their reconnaissance skills."

She sat beside him. "They didn't even ask why you want them to spy on Rowan?"

"Nope. Kids are so obedient nowadays." He chirped cheerily, taking a sip of his tea.

They were sitting in the Death Room, watching the clouds on the walls float by. It was quiet without Rowan, something Death did not wholly dislike, and the atmosphere just felt warm to him. Ophelia had seated herself directly beside him, her arm brushing against his. He looked down at her hand, seeing the ring on her finger. He liked looking at her ring to remind him this was real. His own ring was hanging around his neck on a silver chain.

Two souls brushed over him and he looked up as he permitted them to enter his domain.

"Someone coming?" Ophelia asked when he stood up.

"Yup. My two little spies." The sounds of running footsteps reached their ears.

Ophelia stood as well, folding her hands in front of her. When the two red faced children appeared, she smiled warmly at them while Death gave them a little wave.

"Hi, how are ya? How did it go?" He asked, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

The meister hung her head in shame. "We're sorry, Lord Death, but we don't know. We followed Rowan to his home, but weren't able to look inside or anything; he had all the blinds down."

He and Ophelia both sulked and she glared at him. "Got any more bright ideas?"

He let his shoulders sag to show his disappointment before straightening up. He clapped his hands together. "That's alright, girls~! I know you tried your best and that's all that matters! You are dismissed now!"

The two girls looked relieved, bowed to him, and ran out of the Death Room. Ophelia looked at him, puzzled. "That's it?"

"We're going to take matters into our own hands. Come on." He held his arm out to her.

She looped her arm in his, still looking confused, and the two exited the Death Room. He tugged her out of the school and headed in the direction of Rowan's home.

"What is it you're planning? You aren't just going to confront Rowan about this, are you?" She asked.

"Not outright confront him, no. Unless I get impatient. In that case, I'm just going to ask; if he gets offended then I'll just apologize." He responded, quickening his pace when Rowan's home came into sight.

"What? Are you sure that's a good idea?" She sounded apprehensive.

"Who knows~?" He sang, lifting his free arm to knock on the door.

It was quiet on the other side of the door for a few heartbeats. Ophelia leaned against him to whisper, "Maybe she isn't home?"

The door swung open and there stood Rowan. "Ah, sorry 'bout tha'. Took me some ta find me goggles. C'min."

He stood to the side and Death whisked into the house confidently while Ophelia hung back, still looking rather uncomfortable. Death looked around the room.

The house was clean enough, but not overly so, nor was it very well furnished. The walls were painted a neutral gray and a large elk head was hung over the fireplace. Death felt a twinge of annoyance; even Rowan's house gave no real hint to his gender.

"Make yerselves at home. Was there somethin' ya needed?" Rowan queried after settling in a wooden chair.

Death sat across from him and Ophelia followed suit, twiddling her fingers. "It's about what part we want you for in our wedding. Do you have a preference?"

"Preference? Hmm..." Rowan scratched his cheek in thought. "Nah, can't think of any. Wha'ever part ya want me ta be, I guess."

"You're sure you don't have a preference as to what your part would be?" Death pressed. Ophelia looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Nope! Just bein' part of it makes me happy!" Rowan chirped happily.

_Why can't he just make it easy for us?! Damn, I bet he's doing it on purpose!_ Ophelia, seeming to sense Death's waning patience, cut in, "It's just we don't want to assign you a part you would be unhappy with, or unfit for." She muttered the last part just loud enough for Death to hear it.

"Thanks for the consideration, but like I said, I'll be happy with wha'ever part."

_He is doing it on purpose!_ Death decided to just say it. "Rowan, what is your gender?"

It was silent in the house. Ophelia looked up at Death with a look mixed with mortification and fury. Rowan, his face still covered, said nothing, though Death wasn't sure if it was out of shock. Ophelia brought her fist crashing down on Death's head.

"Moron! I told you not to ask so bluntly! You might have hurt her feelings!" She seethed.

He rubbed his aching head and shielded the next punch aimed for his skull. She paused mid-swing, though, when Rowan threw his head back, laughing raucously. Death looked at his partner, his mask conveying his slight worry.

"I-is tha' whatcha been wonderin' 'bout? Why didn't ya just ask?!" Rowan gasped out between sniggers, hands clutching his sides.

"W-well, yes; we didn't want to hurt your feelings, though!" Ophelia quickly said, eyes wide.

"I woulda been more than happy ta tell ya, ya know. I know the whole city's been wonderin' 'bout it since I was a kid, but no one ever had the nerve ta ask. I'm not hurt or nothin'. It's honest curiosity. If ya must know..." Rowan reached up for his goggles.

Death and Ophelia subconsciously leaned forward anxiously, holding their breaths. He removed his goggles and lowered his turtleneck, revealing a full mouth. His eyes were doe-like and dark brown. He grinned cheekily at them, revealing a chipped front tooth. Death blinked and was ashamed he still could not tell what gender Rowan was. Ophelia squealed. "Oh, you're so cute! Will you be my Maid of Honor?!"

Rowan laughed again and ran a hand through his short hair. "Sorry, Missy Ophelia, but I'd rather be Best Man."

Internally, Death did a little victory cheer and dance. On the outside, he remained composed. "Then Best Man it is."

Rowan's grin widened and Ophelia's face flushed with embarrassment at her mistake. "Thanks, Lord Death. But, ya still don't know my gender."

Ophelia's flush went away and Death furrowed his brow. "Huh?"

"Long hair's such a pain, so I keep my hair cut short. I like dressing like a guy, but I'm a girl. It was fun keepin' everyone guessin' though!"

Ophelia came out of the stupor faster. She giggled. "I was right!"

Death closed his jaw, which had dropped the news. He sighed and stood up.

"I need Skullcap tea."


	16. The New Lady Death!

**Roji- so do I haha**

**general zargon- Know what's funny? I kinda thought Rowan would be a guy, too XD**

**Mewtwo3642- YESSS YOU CREATED PERFECT SYMMETRY! But then it died T.T**

**Imaginefun- Haha I can picture Death saying that**

**snowcloud8- Thank you ^^**

**GigiandMad- Thank you and your welcome!**

**T.T" Sorry for not responding to all reviews, but thanks, Lanny-Sama, NorthernMage, FilthyTricksyHobbitses/Dearie, Universal808, SoniKZooM, and GrossGirl18 for reviewing! I'm so lazy so that's why I'm not replying to all ^^" Sorrrrrrrry!**

**Ooh, and I'm curious: I'm working on an Itachi story (Naruto), if I posted the first chapter, would you guys read and review? Obviously, you don't have to, but it would be appreciated!**

**Onto the story now~!**

* * *

Death adjusted his tie apprehensively, peering out from behind the door. Most of the guests had arrived, seated in the white benches outside. He was inside his manor, allowing Rowan to fuss over him. She was dressed in a suit as well, her goggles and high collar noticeably missing. She didn't appear uncomfortable, busying herself with adjusting his lapel.

"Honestly, sir, ya wear suits all the time; why're ya such a slob?" She was griping, picking lint off his sleeve.

He wasn't listening to her, silently counting how the number of guests. "Why are there so many? Did we really invite everyone? Oh, gods, Rowan, what's the name of the bride again?"

"Missy Ophelia." Rowan replied dryly, having answered him for the third time in less than fifteen minutes. "Sir, ya alright? Ya seem...nervous."

"Nervous? Who said I'm nervous. I'm Lord Death; there is nothing I fear!" His laugh was high pitched.

She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Right. The ceremony's gonna start in 'bout twenty minutes. Can ya pull yaself together by then?"

"I'm pulled together!" He declared, his knees shaking.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Better than nothin' I guess."

Death poked his fingers nervously together. The orchestra was already beginning to play, stalling the crowd until the ceremony began. A flash of black caught his eye and he swiveled his head to follow it. He narrowed his eyes when he couldn't find it. _That was odd..._

"Ouch!" He started and glared at Rowan, who was trying to pin his buotonniere to his lapel. It was a red rosebud. She had jabbed him with the pin and glowered up at him.

"If ya would stop movin', it'd be easier!" She grumbled, pulling away with a nod of satisfaction.

He lightly touched the bud, its petals soft like velvet, and he peered out again. "It's time."

"Get out there then!" She shoved him out the door.

"Don't rush me!" He snapped, paling beneath his mask when all the guests turned around to watch him and Rowan walk down the aisle to their position at the altar.

He audibly gulped and held his head high, refraining from speaking to the guests, sans dipping his head at them in acknowledgment. He got to the altar and waited patiently for Ophelia, his hands folded in front of him. Rowan stood beside him, cheeks ready to tear, her grin was so wide. He took a deep breath through his nose and let it out through his mouth when he heard the orchestra begin to play "The Wedding March."

One of his Death Scythes, a gaunt man, was giving her away. It was her request; she considered all the Death Scythes part of her family and Henry was the oldest, so she viewed him as a father figure. He wasn't paying attention to Henry, though. His focus was on her.

Her dress's neckline sloped before squaring off at the top of her chest. The sleeves were long and hemmed with a pink fabric, as was the bottom of the dress. Her train trailed behind her, moving gracefully behind her. The choker he had gotten her was still around her neck; the only jewelry she had on. Her veil was gossamer, looking as if spiders had weaved it. Her long, braided hair had white primrose incorporated into it with her thick locks pulled over her left shoulder. She was beaming behind the veil and he impatiently wished the pace would be quickened.

Henry took her hand and held it out expectantly for Death to take. He held his hand out, palm up, and curled his fingers into her palm when Henry placed her hand in his. Henry's somber gray eyes met him and he murmured raspily, "Take good care of her."

"I will." He replied quietly, bringing Ophelia closer to the altar with him. He turned to face her and took her other hand.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony." The priest began, gesturing to Death and Ophelia.

Ophelia was staring at him lovingly, but he could feel her shaking. She was just as nervous as he was and that thought soothed him, oddly enough. He rubbed her palm with his thumb, alleviating his and her timorousness.

"...Death, will you take Ophelia to be your wife, your partner in life, and your one true love? Will you cherish her friendship and love her today, tomorrow, and forever? Will you trust and honor her, laugh with her and cry with her? Will you be faithful through good times and bad, in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?"

_I've never been more certain of anything in my life._ He said firmly, "I will."

The priest turned to Ophelia and repeated the same thing, "Ophelia, will you take Death to be your husband, your partner in life, and your one true love? Will you cherish his friendship and love him today, tomorrow and forever? Will you trust and honor him, laugh with him and cry with him? Will you be faithful through good times and bad, in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?"

Her voice cracked as she tearfully declared, "I will."

His heart swelled. He knew what she would say, but just knowing she was willing to put so much faith in him, and herself, warmed him. He grinned hard beneath his mask and only wished she could see it.

"Please place the rings and say, 'With this ring, I do thee wed." The priest requested.

Death pulled his ring out first and carefully slid it onto Ophelia's finger. "With this ring, I do thee wed."

Ophelia laughed wetly as she pulled her ring to him out with the silver chain he had it connected to. He bent down and let her put it over his head. The guests laughed. "With this 'ring', I do thee wed."

"Then by the power invested in me, I declare you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride." The priest closed his book.

The guests murmured to themselves, their curiosity as to how the two would kiss palpable. Death moved his mask to the side, revealing part of his face to the priest, who gaped, and ducked his head down to kiss Ophelia. The guests erupted in applause as they pulled apart. She smiled and pecked him once more before moving his mask back in place for him. He took her hand and led her down from the altar, leading her to his (their) home. When they got to the door, he swept her off her feet with her shrieking with laughter. He opened the door awkwardly and used his foot to close it.

"Welcome home, Lady Death." He murmured, allowing her to remove his mask. She dropped it on the floor and placed her hand on his cheek. She smiled softly.

He took her to their room and set her on the bed, holding himself over her. He bent his head down to kiss her, but something made him pause. His body tensed and he straightened up. Ophelia sat up, looking confused.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

He didn't respond, shuddering when the wavelength washed over him. It was one he hadn't felt in centuries. Just as sudden as he had felt it, however, it vanished.

"Death?" He glanced down at her. She looked concerned now.

He shook his head and settled so he was lying beside her. "It's nothing."

She didn't seemed convinced, but he distracted her with a kiss, pulling her closer. The wavelength returned and this time, it persisted. Death chose to ignore it, persuading himself into believing his false reassurance to Ophelia.

_There is no way after all these years she would seek me out._ He gently unwound Ophelia's braid, fingering the soft strands as they slipped through his fingers.

She sighed and the wavelength vanished again, this time it didn't return.


	17. The Shinigami

**GigiandMad- Haha Rowan's probably mad from being Death's partner!**

**VioletDawn0- Thanks ^^ and I like long reviews :3**

**Imaginefun- XD Fantastically ironic!**

**FilthyTricksyHobbitses- Haha you got it **

**Confetti108- Part of your questions will be answered in this chapter!**

**So close to 100! Ah, I'm so excited! Onto the story!**

* * *

He kept his arms folded, absentmindedly looking out the bay window of his home. It was August, the days dry and hot. Most of the people were outside, enjoying the sunny day. Not him; he remained home, thinking of that wavelength he felt two months ago.

It was constantly there and it never actually entered the city. Instead, it probed around the edge of his soul, as though getting a feel of just how large his soul was. It was both irritating and stressful to him; he wished it would just enter the city so he could deal with it. He knew who the wavelength belonged to; a fellow Shinigami. He just didn't know what _she_ wanted.

Death sighed heavily through his nose. This was so like his sister. She wanted him to go to her, but, judging by the way she skittishly remained on the outskirts, knew he couldn't.

"Death?" He turned around to see Ophelia standing in the doorway, looking at him with concern. "Are you okay? You've been staring out that window since this morning."

"I'm fine," he lied, "I just don't know what to do with myself since the children are all out on summer break."

She went over to him and rested her hand on his arm, smiling reassuringly at him. "I know that's a partial truth. You've been acting odd for the past two months. Did you sense something?"

He smiled fondly down at her. "You're too preceptive for your own good. I did sense something, and have for a while now. I believe it is my sister."

"Really?" She stiffened slightly and frowned. "What could she want?"

Death shrugged. "I can only wait for her to venture into the city to see me. I'm not sure if it's a good sign that she only probes the very edge of my soul; it could mean she's analyzing me."

Ophelia hummed her response and dropped her hand from his arm. "I think she's nervous."

He looked down at her, an eyebrow raised. "'Nervous?' Miata isn't the kind to-"

"Let me explain," she gently interrupted, "what I mean. You haven't seen her in a very long time, right?"

He nodded his confirmation. "Maybe she thinks you don't want to see her, but she wants to see you. So, she's hanging back until she gets enough courage to come into the city."

He highly doubted her explanation, but agreed nonetheless. "Yes, that makes sense. That must be it."

_Still...perhaps I should send one of my Scythes out to find her and bring her to me. She may just be waiting for an "invitation."_

"I went to the Doctor's today." Ophelia suddenly said.

He looked down at her, noticing her demeanor change. She was looking shyly at the ground and her hands pressed themselves against her stomach. She had been feeling ill in the morning, but felt fine in the afternoon. Death wasn't sure what it was, but she seemed to know. She only wanted affirmation from a professional.

"What did he say?" His mouth was very dry then, watching her hands.

"I'm two months pregnant." She looked up, scrutinizing his expression very carefully.

His face went white, his scar standing out more than usual. His eyes were wide as he stared at her stomach incredulously. "I'm going to be a father?"

She nodded her head excitedly. "And I'm going to be a mother!"

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, her soft hair tickling his skin.

"A father...I'm going to be a father." He muttered.

Ophelia laughed and pulled away from him. "I'm going to have to go to the Doctor's again soon He needs to make sure our baby is growing alright."

Death nodded dumbly, eyes still on her stomach. _I have another person I must protect now. This changes a lot of things, now. I still don't know what Miata is doing here and if she is here to cause trouble, I need to get rid of her quickly._

"Ophelia, why don't you go rest? I have some business I need to attend to." He gently ushered her to the door.

"I'm not that delicate yet." She argued, but went down the hall to their room anyway.

Death grabbed his mask from the table he had placed it on, sliding it over his face. He turned toward the full length mirror in the corner of the room and went over to it. When he was a foot away, he murmured, "Cole."

The reflection shivered and an older man appeared, saluting him. "Yes, Lord Death?"

"I have detected a soul on the outskirts of the city. The last time I felt it two hours ago, it was to the western side. I would like for you to 'welcome' our guest and bring them to Gallows Manor." He ordered.

Cole saluted him once more. "Roger that, sir!"

His reflection disappeared and Death exited his library, heading to his room.

_If she planned on coming into the city soon, she shouldn't put up a fight. But, if she does...the outcome could be catastrophic._ He peeked into the bedroom.

Ophelia was sitting beside the bed, reading one of his books. Her legs were crossed and he could see her foot wiggling as she read. She had her hair pulled up into a bun, a few stray hairs brushing against her cheek. She looked up and raised a brow.

"Why do you have your mask on?" She asked.

He went over to her and placed his hand on her cheek, tucking a strand behind her ear. "I sent one of my Scythes out to retrieve Miata, if it is her. He's going to bring her here for me to speak with her. I am going to take her to the library; don't leave the bedroom. Close the door and don't come out until I get you."

Her eyes filled with worry. "Do you really think she's going to do something?"

"I'm not sure, but better to be safe than sorry. I am not going to let her hurt my wife and child." The wavelength abruptly flared and he shuddered as he felt it pass through his soul. It was the most intrusive, unpleasant sensation he had ever felt.

He withdrew his hand and straightened up. "She's in the city now. Remember what I said."

Death left the room, closing the door behind him. He walked down the hall to the front door. The wavelengths were getting closer and he barely felt Cole's. The wavelengths, though familiar, felt bitter and heavy as they continuously washed over him. He paused in front of the door. They were directly outside now. With a deep breath, he opened the door and kept his voice as light and cheery as he could.

"Hiya, sis! Long time no see! How ya doing~?!" He chirped from the doorway. He didn't dare get closer.

His sister, now that he remembered, had always been partial to armor and had not changed her taste. Her armor now, though, was much different than her armor then. This armor was as black as midnight and clung to her svelte frame. It looked light, easy to move in, something was a necessity for her. Her boots were flat and just as black as her armor. They, too, were guarded. The mask she wore was that of their father's, or at least it was similar in design. It was frightening to look at, made of real bone, the teeth sharpened to points. The eye sockets glowed red, bright as a ruby. A black hood seemed to hold the mask in place.

"Unnecessary." She stated, her voice cold and low.

"I apologize, but I cannot leave the city, otherwise I would have gotten you myself." He apologized, bowing low at the waist to his older sister.

She grunted and walked toward him. He straightened up and looked at Cole. "Thank you; you are dismissed."

Cole saluted and quickly descended down the steps. Death let his sister past him, repressing the urge to flinch when her cold armor brushed his arm. He closed the door and turned to face her, subtly scanning his sister to see if she had any weapons on her, mildly surprised to see that she didn't.

She was looking around the foyer, pausing to look at the painting of him and Ophelia on their wedding. He swallowed loudly when she remained fixated on it.

"S-so" he cursed the stutter, "shall we remove our masks? We are alone."

She turned to him expectantly and he took the hint, removing his mask. She lowered her hood and removed her own mask. Her atramentous hair reached her hips, her bangs covering her eyes. A single, pristine, white Line of Sanzu wrapped around her head. Her pale lips were pressed in a firm line and he cringed. He instinctively knew she did that when she was displeased. She gestured to the painting.

"Don't lie." She warned immediately, sensing him racking his brain to come up with a plausible calumny.

"My wife." He admitted. "She won't be joining us this afternoon.

Miata's lips twitched as though she was about to smile. "You don't trust me."

Death laughed humorously. "You've never given me a reason not to. No, I wanted to speak to you privately. It's been a long time."

She was suddenly directly in front of him, a full smirk teasing her lips. "You're an awful liar. You don't trust me. You sense my bloodlust, don't you?"

His eyes narrowed, feeling her shadow beginning to wind up his legs. Despite the obvious danger, he demanded, "Why are you here, Miata? If I don't like your answer, I won't hesitate to kill you. I will protect my wife and city, even if you are my opponent."

Her shadow dug sharply into his back and her smirk widened. "Why don't you tell me, O Favored One?"


	18. Miata's Intention

**GigiandMad- O.O Erm, actually Ophelia now is roughly 150, give or take a decade ^^" I forgot how old, but I mentioned it a few chapters ago**

**wordfiend- Thanks!**

**confetti108- XD I know, I'm such a stinker**

**Imaginefun- I don't know why you're so surprised either! Guess that's a good thing, though ^^ Wouldn't want to get too predictable!**

**KuroIchigoGal- Hehe, just wait til you read this one!**

**Mewtwo3642- Yes, it would be pretty low, it's a shame she falls that low**

**greetingsfrommars- Haha, I think I screwed with a lot of people's heads (including my own) when it came to Rowan's gender. Glad you're caught up in the story and that you're enjoying it!**

**Can't believe this is over 100 reviews now! =O This is like a life goal of mine! **

**Onto the story~!**

* * *

Death's scowl deepened. "You know I always hated you calling me that. Would you mind backing up now? Your idea of greeting me is...peculiar."

Miata's smirk softened and her shadow slowly retracted. "Alright. I'm not dumb enough to attack you anyway, little brother."

She stepped back from him and he subconsciously rubbed the area where her shadow had dug in a little too sharply for his liking. "While you may have been jesting, I had not been. What is it you want?"

"So serious, aren't you? I came because I heard you married the condemned human." She jabbed her thumb at the portrait of him and Ophelia.

"Who told you that?"

"Eibon. He's been working on the design of some interesting tools, you know. I stumbled across his home in my travels and we caught up. I always enjoyed his company as an intellect, unlike that failed creation of yours." The last part was mumbled, barely heard by him, but heard nonetheless.

"'Failed creation?'" He repeated, eyebrow raised.

She waved a hand at him. "Never mind. I forgot you don't have much recollection of _that_ time. Anyway, is there some place where we can sit? I've been traveling for quite a long time and my feet could use the rest."

Hesitantly, Death nodded and led her to his library. As they passed the closed bedroom door, he noticed she paused for just a moment, frowning slightly. He wished her bangs weren't hiding her eyes so he could read her expression better; it was beginning to make him nervous. She caught back up with him and made herself comfortable in the chair across from his. He sat across from her, bridging his hands beneath his chin.

"How does Eibon know of my marital status?" He queried.

She shrugged. "He has his ways, I suppose. Tell me, Death, have you lost your mind?"

Her question was rhetoric and he kept silent, focusing on her elfin nose. "Not only did you fail to collect that human's soul, but now you marry her? What's worse; she is carrying a child! That child will become the embodiment of madness, you know. You should destroy both while-"

He looked from her nose to her eyes, noticing the ethereal glow through her heavy, inky strands. A chill ran down his spine and instinct told him to look away, but he remained sound. Now that he remembered, her eyes were frightful; one look was enough to make him bend to her will. He wasn't going to give in this time.

"I am well aware of the consequence of my failure to act, however, the child will be an embodiment of madness, regardless. Shinigami are madness, are we not? Wizards are madness. Ophelia knows of her fate and has accepted it, but, while I am here, I will not let her succumb to madness." He replied firmly, glowering at her.

Miata crossed her leg and straightened up, her back ramrod straight. "Ophelia, huh? What a tragic sounding name...Death, you cannot change fate. Humans cannot mentally handle the emotional burden of longevity. It's a fact."

"I will not kill her. If that is what you came here to say, I suggest you leave before I take your head." He growled darkly, muscles beginning to tense.

Her mouth twitched in the corners as though she were amused by his threat. "Your temper certainly hasn't improved much. Perhaps it would do you good to have a woman around. What would you say, or rather do, if I told you I came here to weed out the troublesome spot in this world's Order?"

He was a blur. She blinked and felt his hand constrict around her throat, not squeezing tight enough to endanger her, but tight enough to get the point across. Death's eyes were narrowed into cold slits, his lips curled off his teeth in a perfect snarl.

"I told you if you lay a hand on my wife, I will kill you. Do not test me, Miata."

"D-Death?" The two Shinigami turned their attention to the doorway, where a rather nervous looking Ophelia was. She was leaning against the door, partially hiding behind it, looking very much like a disobedient child.

Death's grip loosened as his attention was diverted. His voice became tender. "Ophelia, I told you to remain in our room until I came to get you."

She shuffled her feet. "You raised your voice and I got worried. Is...is everything alright?"

He released Miata's throat, his sister rubbing her throat uncomfortably. "We were just catching up; nothing for you to be concerned about. You should go rest."

Miata looked on with slight fascination at how quickly Death became tame around the woman. She eyed Ophelia, ignoring Death's warning glare. She was pretty enough and had a gentle face, something Miata found endearing in a childlike way. Then, she took a glance at her soul.

Ophelia possessed a very accepting soul and Miata's body felt warmed with each gentle wavelength that passed over her. She was finding herself beginning to rather like Ophelia, but frowned when she felt a shiver in her soul. It was a familiar sensation, miniscule, but still present. Madness. Sure enough, the madness was there, steadily growing at a slow rate. Miata suppressed her shudder and decided to read the child's soul.

It was weak, heartbreakingly so. Something wasn't right with it and she opened her mouth to warn the two, but paused. Death had gone over to Ophelia, his large hand pressed against her stomach lovingly. Her heart constricted and she closed her mouth.

"Oh, I forgot to ask! Lady Miata, would care for some tea?" She snapped out of it, her gaze snapping to Ophelia.

"Miata is just fine and no, thank you. I should probably leave anyway." Her voice sounded strange, even to her. Ophelia's brow furrowed slightly before smoothing out.

"Are you sure? You're welcome to stay here for the night, isn't she, Death?" She looked up at her husband and Miata watched with faint amusement when Death nodded obediently. To her surprise, though, he smiled at her.

"We would be happy to have you here, sister. I'd like to talk with you more." His words were genuine.

She shrugged indifferently. "If I wouldn't be a burden..."

"Oh, not at all! I'll got set up a room for you!" Ophelia cried happily, running out of the room.

Death turned his attention back on his sister. She was gripping her elbows, her chin tucked in slightly. "I can see why you fell in love with her. She has a very loving soul. It would be a waste to reap, but it would have come anyway."

"Yes, it would have been." He quietly agreed, noticing the change in his sister. She seemed almost melancholy. "Your perception has always been far better than mine. I couldn't tell that much."

Miata seemed to swell with the compliment. "...So, Death Weapon Meister Academy, huh?"

He chuckled softly. "Yeah. Someone needs to fight evil humans and I can no longer do it. I've no doubt Eibon told you of Asura?"

"That's right. I can't believe you bonded your soul to the land here, though. Don't you feel...restless?" He felt her eyes sweep over him, scanning his soul.

"Yes, more than you can imagine. I would most likely go mad if it weren't for the academy. It's easy to get distracted watching the young students' progression." She could hear the fondness in his voice.

"I'm glad you found some thing that makes you happy." She said sincerely.

"Thank you." He smiled widely at her.

Ophelia entered the room, seeming much more relaxed seeing the two siblings conversing without one strangling the other. "I've set up the room; third door down on the right."

Miata nodded her head, looking away from Death. "Thank you, Ophelia."

She walked toward the much smaller woman, bending down slightly. Death watched her warily, while Ophelia looked up at her with warm, albeit, guarded eyes. Miata carefully pressed her lips against Ophelia's forehead before straightening back up.

"I'll be in my room if you need me." She called over her shoulder, disappearing down the hallway.

Ophelia looked astounded before breaking out in a grin. "Okay!"

Death walked over to her, looking slightly concerned. "Do you feel alright? She didn't hurt you or-"

"Death, it was just a kiss. Your sister seems kind." She interrupted.

He shook his head. "That was strange, even for her. She's up to something..."

She sighed and shook her head back at him. "Stop being so paranoid! I'm going to make some tea. Your head isn't bothering you, is it?"

He smiled slightly at her concern and rubbed her arm once. "No, I'm fine."

"Good, then I'll make jasmine tonight instead of Skullcap." She smiled and left the library to go to the kitchen.

Death's smile fell and he rubbed his face tiredly. "Miata, I don't know what you're planning, but I hope it won't be anything too drastic..."

He sat down in his chair, just about to start a new book, when he heard Ophelia's startled shriek. He shot out of his chair and ran to the kitchen. Miata was in there, too, kneeling beside his wife, who was crumpled on the ground, her face twisted in pain. Her legs and the floor were stained with blood.

"What happened?!" He demanded, rushing over to Ophelia.

"The baby, there's something wrong with the baby!" Ophelia whimpered before crying out.


	19. The Brief Battle

**Roji- Happy (very) belated birthday then! And yeah, I definitely plan on having little kid adventures in the story**

**Imaginefun- Your review is fine! Glad I got you hooked!**

**wordfriend- Thank you ^^" You know what's funny? That was actually kind of accidental. Hehe, oh well it works!**

**Mewtwo3642- Heck, even I'm excited!**

**GigiandMad- :3 I'm a sadist, what can I say?**

**Also, I have two things in here most of you probably don't know about so:**

**vambrace: wrist guards**

**sabaton: boots (metal/armor)**

**Onto the story now~!**

* * *

"The baby?" He sank to his knees beside her, his brow furrowed with worry as Ophelia curled forward, arms wrapped around her abdomen. "Ophelia!"

She screamed and more blood covered the floor. Miata pushed Ophelia's hair out of her face and murmured, "It's a miscarriage."

"What is that?" Death snapped, lifting his head up to glare at his sister.

"Her pregnancy spontaneously ended. The baby is dead."

Ophelia let out a choked sob, her hands covering her mouth. "Oh, god."

Death snarled and grabbed Miata by her throat, cutting her airway off. "You had something to do with this, didn't you?! What did you do?!"

She gripped his hand tightly and shook her head slightly. He felt her pulse beat wildly against his index finger, he could_ smell_ her fear. He wanted to end her, he just needed to apply more pressure-

A hand, so much smaller than Miata's or his own, placed itself on his wrist as well. He looked at Ophelia, his eyes alight with fury. Tears were falling and she whispered, "Don't. It isn't her fault. She came to my side the moment I collapsed."

Roughly, he wrenched his hand away from Miata's pale throat and stood up. She gasped and sputtered for breath, her hand coming up to massage the imprint of his harsh grip. His gaze didn't linger on her long as he stared, sickened, at the blood pooled around Ophelia. Her breathing was labored and she shakily got up, leaning against the counter. With a growl, Death left the room, the stench of blood bringing back unwanted memories.

Ophelia looked concernedly at Miata, who was still on her knees. "A-are you alright?"

Wordlessly, the other woman nodded and got back to her feet. She looked down at Ophelia and questioned hoarsely, "The question is, are you alright?"

Ophelia wrapped and arm around her torso and winced. "It still hurts...but it's nothing I can't handle. My baby...I hadn't had him for long, but..."

"It still hurts." Miata smiled bitterly, knowingly. "We should get you cleaned up. Do you need help?"

Before she could respond, the front door was slammed closed. She winced and whimpered. "Death..."

Miata sighed. "He needs time to calm down. I understand why he is so angry. Come; I'll help you."

She wrapped an arm around Ophelia's waist, allowing her to lean against her as she was leaded to the bathroom. She set her down on a stool before turning to the tub and turning the knobs. The water came spewing out, steam filling the room. Miata stood in front of the tub, her back to Ophelia, with her arms folded. She could feel Ophelia's eyes on her, studying her.

After a few moments of silence, Ophelia spoke. "You're nothing like Death said you were."

"Oh? I am surprised he spoke of me at all. What is it he said about me?" She didn't turn, observing the water as it tumbled out of the faucet.

"W-well, that you were brash and held no regard for humans; apparently, you viewed them even more cynically than he did." Miata smirked softly.

"I was like that once. Granted, I still care little for humans, but I acknowledge their potential." She turned the water off when the tub was filled all the way. "Death would not speak about me willingly. I imagine you asked him?"

Sheepishly, Ophelia nodded. "I was curious...about Shinigami. About him."

"You're lucky." Miata responded vaguely, heading to the door. "I will leave you to your bath. If you need help, I'll be in the kitchen."

"O-okay. Thank you." She missed the grateful smile and closed the door behind her.

Miata sighed softly and returned to the kitchen. She was hesitant to clean the blood up, after all she was still in armor, but the scent was beginning to nauseate her. She grabbed the bucket hanging nearby and filled it with water fro the kitchen sink. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"How troublesome." She removed her vambraces and boots, leaving her barefooted and her hands and wrists free of armor.

She shoved them into a corner and grabbed a cloth. Miata got on her hands and knees, dunked the cloth in the water, and began to wipe the blood away. Some of it had dried and she grit her teeth, scrubbing away. Her arms began to ache and her back screamed, but she kept at it relentlessly. While she was cleaning the floor, she scanned the city, hoping to find Death, only to let out a frustrated grunt when she reminded herself his soul was rooted to the land. It wasn't possible to pinpoint his wavelengths when they remained in the same place.

While she would not confess to Ophelia, who had no idea why Death reacted to murderously toward his sister, Miata knew. With their discussion prior to the miscarriage, she intentionally implied she was there to kill the baby. However, she had no real intent to do so, not that Death would believe her. She reminded herself to apologize to him when she got the chance, given he didn't try to kill her as soon as he saw her.

Miata leaned back on her heels, huffing a little. She rinsed the cloth, wringing out the bloody cloth, and leaned it against the window sill. She stood, her vertebrae cracking as she did so, and grabbed the bucket. She dumped it down the drain, the reddened water swirling before disappearing. She grimaced and put the bucket back where she found it.

"You didn't have to clean that all by yourself!" Ophelia's disapproving voice came from behind her.

She turned around to scowl at her. "You are in no condition to clean it up. I had nothing better to do. You should go and rest."

Ophelia, already dressed in a nightgown, nodded begrudgingly. "I was going there next. If Death comes back-"

"I know." Miata cut her off.

The brunette smiled slightly and went down the hall. Miata waited until she heard the bedroom door close to bend down to place her sabatons back on her feet and her vambraces on her wrists.  
The front door opened, but an unfamiliar soul entered. She narrowed her eyes and she went to the foyer. Rowan was there, looking around.

"Er, Lord Death? Ya here yet?...No?...Okay. GAH!" She suddenly noticed Miata, her arm changing into a blade.

Miata stared at her indifferently. "I take it you are looking for my brother?"

Rowan, realizing who Miata was, reverted her arm back to normal, rubbing the back of her neck. "Yeah, tha's right, Lady. I saw 'im and he looked mighty angry so I didn't say anythin', but I was worried. Wha' happened?"

"It is not my place to tell. If he wishes for you to know, he will talk to you about it." She answered, eyes flicking to the door. "You might find out now, in fact."

"Wha-!" Rowan yelped as she was pushed over by the door being opened forcefully.

Death stepped through, mask and robe in place. "Why are you still here? You've accomplished what you came to do; so go!"

Rowan sat up, looking rather alarmed by the true voice of her meister. Miata sighed. "I did nothing. I am just as sorry as it happened as you are."

He snarled and ordered, "Rowan, change."

Looking further alarmed, his Death Scythe shot Miata and apologetic look before obeying. He caught her handle surged toward his sister, blade raised. She raised her arm up and the blade struck her vambrace with a shuddering sound. She looked up at him through her bangs, her arm shaking with the effort of keeping the scythe at bay.

"Isn't this a bit of an overreaction? I have no weapon and here you are, attacking me _inside_ your home. Death, stop this nonsense. I understand you are upset, but rather than take it out on me, why not go and comfort your wife? She is suffering just as much as you are."

When he made no sign of moving willingly on his own, Miata pushed him back using her arm. "This isn't an overreaction! I will kill you for this!"

She sighed again. "You're letting your emotions rule your decisions again."

Suddenly, he was directly in front of her, scythe ready to deal its blow. Her eyes widened and she brought her knee up, striking him in the stomach. He grunted and lurched forward, swiping his scythe at her. It caught her leg as she jumped out of range, a hiss of pain escaping her lips. She bumped into the wall.

"This is stupid; there's no room in here to be swinging that damn thing around! Knock it off!" She snapped, briefly losing her composure.

She saw his defiant glare despite the mask and she grunted in annoyance. "Alright then. I'll take the scythe from you."

Infuriated by what he viewed as her arrogance, he raced at her. Miata was counting on it and side stepped his attack, grabbing his wrist. She yanked him forward and caught his face with her elbow, hearing and feeling bone crunch. She twisted his wrist until she heard the scythe clatter to the ground. She kicked Rowan out of range. Death was already recovering from the blow to his face and whacked her in the head with his hand. She winced as she felt her brain rattle in her skull, but didn't relinquish her grip on his wrist. She flipped him over her back and raised her leg up, bringing it down powerfully on his chest.

He was winded and she straddled him, her shadow aimed directly at his throat. Rowan had changed back, eyes wide with worry, but a sharp glance from Miata kept her from moving. She removed Death's mask and was unsurprised to see him glaring hatefully up at her, even as he coughed up blood and streamed from his broken nose.

"Death, it was no one's fault. I know how much it hurts." She murmured softly.

"You have no idea what I'm feeling right now!" He spat, struggling against her.

Miata held him down and he froze when he saw her eyes. Her eyes, golden and soft just like their mother's, held tears in them. One splashed onto his cheek. Her look said it all. Death glare went away and she allowed him to push her off, settling on his legs. He sat up and frowned.

"You..." He trailed off when she nodded. She looked away from him as though she were ashamed. He swallowed.

"I...had no idea." She smiled ruefully.

"Most don't." She got to her feet and held her hand out to him.

He blinked and looked up at his older sister. Her smile softened. "Let's just put this behind us, little brother."

Hesitantly, he returned the smile and let her pull him up. Rowan watched the siblings embrace with a bemused expression, scratching her head. Ophelia appeared beside her, looking equally confused.

"I heard yelling. Is everything alright?" She asked.

"Yeah, I dunno wha' happened, but I guess the two worked out their diff'rences or somethin'. The fight was over pretty quickly." Rowan answered, dropping her hand.

"Fight?" Ophelia sounded alarmed. Rowan waved a hand.

"Oh, it's fine; Miata only broke his nose...and I think he gave her a concussion. Nothin' serious; Miata only used self defense." She replied carelessly.

Ophelia looked back to Death and Miata, who were still hugging. Death pulled back, holding Miata by her elbows.

"Now that all those bad feelings are out, let's make the most of your visit, 'kay~?" He sang, using his goofy voice.

She smiled softly and nodded, grinning just as goofily as her brother. Then, brought her fist crashing into his head. He yelled and landed on his bottom, massaging his skull.

"I swear, if you ever attack me like that, I will smash your head in half!" She ground out, glowering at him.

Ophelia and Rowan both shrank behind the doorway as Death grumbled, "That really hurt!"


	20. Change of Things

**Mewtwo3642- Thanks! I'm not great at writing fight scenes, so I tried to keep it short, but not lacking**

**Roji- ^^" Luckily that wasn't Kid**

**Imaginefun- XD Death needs karma after all!**

**wordfiend- I'm not sure myself. Thanks!**

**FilthyTricksyHobbitses- Ahh, but that wasn't Kid ;D **

**greetingsfrommars- I don't have siblings either, this is my gross over-exaggeration of sibling spats XD. I like writing scary Death ^^**

**Sorry the chapter's so short, I wasn't really sure what to do with it ^^"**

* * *

The centuries passed and with them, failed pregnancies. It seemed no matter what, Ophelia couldn't carry children to the full nine months. She did once, but the child, a little girl, was stillborn. It was breaking their hearts, but none more so than Ophelia. She became quiet, withdrawn, full of disparage. Death couldn't coax her out of it, much to his own despair, as he held her weeping form.

It was the late twentieth century now. The attire, the children, even the way people spoke was different. It was sometimes hard to keep up with, but Death was an old professional. Ophelia didn't have a hard time, getting some semblance of joy out of wearing pants rather than dresses. Her favorite was jeans. She would always wear jeans and a simple shirt. No shoes. She didn't care for shoes. Her hair was so much longer, nearing her thighs, and not as well cared for, but still infinitely soft.

Death watched two of his students worriedly: Spirit and Franken Stein. Spirit was an emotional, brash redhead who seemed to listen to his heart more than his head. Franken, who preferred to be called by his last name, was his polar opposite. Calculating and logical, coldly so, he never jumped directly into anything. He was a genius, brilliant at soul manipulation, and he could master any weapon he wished. The problem was his madness.

Currently, he was hacking away at an evil human, grinning all the while. Spirit turned back and scolded him, his sapphire eyes hard. Death sighed.

"I partnered Stein up with Spirit hoping Spirit's soul wavelengths would soothe Stein's. It seems to be failing so far..." He muttered to himself.

A warm body wrapped around his arm. "Give him time."

He looked down at his wife, who stared thoughtfully at Stein. He was apathetically wiping the blood off his face, his lips twitching as though he were ready to burst out laughing.

"How old are they?" She asked quietly.

"Seventeen, I believe." He replied.

Ophelia pushed her long bangs out of her face. "Emily would have been the same age."

Death's heart tugged. Their last attempt at having a child, the stillborn, was already named. He couldn't believe it had only been seventeen years ago. Holding her tiny, lifeless body, silently willing her to breathe. He shuddered and Ophelia's grip tightened.

"Ophelia, have you eaten yet today?" He frowned when he felt how thin she was.

She shook her head. He urged her to sit down at the table where a meal was already placed. Yumi must have brought it, he figured, smiling internally. Yumi Azusa was always hanging around, getting him and Ophelia their lunch, or making their tea. She was originally from Japan and he was fond of her tea.

Ophelia grabbed one of the sandwiches and nibbled on it. He watched her. She looked so pale, her eyes holding her grief. He wished she had a child. A child would cheer her up. He wanted one, a little one all his own who relied on him. It would be nice. He sighed longingly and she looked questioningly at him.

"Just thinking." He said, taking a bite of his own sandwich. A soul unfamiliar to him prodded the entrance to the Death Room. It was young, determined. He liked the wavelengths and let the person through.

The footsteps were delicate, but certain. He stood up and waited as a teenaged girl appeared. She stopped at the foot of the platform and bowed.

"Scythe meister Kami reporting, Lord Death." She crowed, straightening up.

She had shoulder length ashy blonde hair and large green eyes. She smiled pleasantly at him as he waved.

"Hiya, how ya doing~?" He asked blithely. Ophelia smiled slightly at the girl.

"I'm good, thank you. Um, Lord Death, I came here with a...concern." Her smile fell and she furrowed her brow.

"Oh? What's your concern?"

"It's about Stein and Spirit." She blushed when she said the latter's name. "I think Stein is experimenting on Spirit when he's sleeping."

Ophelia snorted from beside him, covering her mouth with her hand. Kami glanced over at her nervously, but Ophelia waved a hand at her. "I'm sorry. Continue, ignore me."

Death himself was somewhat amused. How did Spirit not wake up to something like that? "What makes you say that?"

Kami poked her fingers together, looking unwilling to admit to something. "W-well, he has weird scars and stitches all over his body and it seems like there's a new one every day! The newest one was where his kidney would be."

While he was curious to know as to why she knew such an intimate detail, he ignored it for the time being. "Hmm, that does sound troublesome. When they return, tell them to come here, 'kay?"  
She looked relieved that she hadn't been automatically dismissed. She bowed. "Thank you for listening, sir!"

"No problem~!" She ran down the platform and down the long hall of guillotines to the exit.

Ophelia stood up and sighed. "I guess Spirit's soul didn't neutralize Stein's. But...I wonder how Kami knew about the scars..."

Death's eye twitched. "I believe I know why, but I'd rather not think of it. I just hope Spirit's smart enough to use protection."

Ophelia gaped up at him, her cheeks turning pink. "O-oh, my."

* * *

"Wha? I-I knew he was cutting me up!" Spirit wailed as he wrapped his arms protectively around his torso. "Steinnnnn! What the hell, man?!"

Stein stared at him blankly. "I wanted to know what would happen if I poked your kidney. It seems you have to go to the bathroom more."

Death rubbed his temples. "Stein, don't you understand why it's wrong to cut people up in their sleep?"

Stein turned that dead look onto Death. "It's dissection. It's for science. I wouldn't kill him; I have blood ready in case I need to do a transfusion."

"Has that actually happened?!" Spirit exclaimed. Stein shrugged a shoulder and Spirit bursted into tears.

"I died! Oh dear god, I died! I didn't even get to get married or have children!" Death twitched and whacked Spirit.

"Would you shut up a minute?! You aren't dead. You can still do all those things; now act like an adult!" He ground out.

Spirit rubbed his head, groaning. Kami stood beside him, glaring vehemently at Stein. Stein glowered back. "I take it you're the one who told, brat? I should dissect you. I haven't looked at a feminine specimen yet."

Rather than cower, her glare turned more heated. Death sighed, looking between the teenagers. "Alright, I'm going to make some changes here. Spirit, your new partner will be Kami. Stein, perhaps you should work on controlling your dissecting urge a little better. I will partner you up with Marie Mjolnir to keep your violent side sedated. Is that alright with everyone?"

Kami looked ready to burst with joy, as did Spirit, and Stein shrugged indifferently. Death clapped his hands together. "Good! Now, off you go!"

The three saluted him before heading out. He sighed and vaguely wondered what time it was. It felt late to him, but not horribly so. Maybe nine. He cracked his back and stepped down from the platform and walked down the hallway.

Ophelia had long since gone home. She had been complaining about her stomach bothering her and feeling tired. He sent her home to rest and hadn't heard from her since. That had been earlier that afternoon. He was beginning to worry about her. Her madness, always tinged in her soul, felt like it was expanding. Before it was just a dot, barely noticeable, now it felt larger. She was acting strange, too, but he thought it was just her melancholy.

As he opened the door from the Death Room into the school hall, a body slammed into him. He stumbled slightly and looked down in alarm. It was Ophelia, her face buried in his cloak. She was sobbing and he felt her tears soak his cloak.

"Ophelia, what's wrong?" He asked, placing a hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair.

She looked up and tearfully proclaimed, "I'm pregnant!"


	21. The Long Awaited Arrival!

**wordfiend- Thank you!**

**general zargon- XD No, but he should start up again! I may put a hint of Stein/Marie, or I'll write a story about the two! I love Kid, too, he's awesome!**

**Confetti108- It's okay! You catch up still!**

**Imaginefun- This still has quite a few chapters left, don't worry!**

**Mewtwo3642- You'll see~!**

**Universal808- I won't end the story without you!**

**Roji- She was crying out of sadness. I don't want to spoil anything, but no, she isn't going to die during childbirth (kinda cliche)**

**Anya Cavanaugh- Thanks!**

**mikotoku- Glad you love it!**

** - XD Ok**

**greetingsfrommars- Haha Spirit gets more perverted with age!**

**LuxLux1- I figure it'd be easier for him to be born like a human**

**GigiandMad- Kami and Spirit were already together, but Death didn't know that (XD oblivious!). I read and watched both the manga and anime, so I know what happens. I'm just going to go with my original plan.**

**So sorry it took me a month to update! My computer does this cute thing where it'll shut off if the power cord isn't plugged in/jostled. Gah. Adorable. AND ZOMFG DID ANY OF YOU READ THE LATEST CHAPTER OF SOUL EATER?! I CRIED! Ahem. Anyway. Onto the story!**

* * *

She was so upset. Death was torn. He comforted her, gently shushing her and wiping her tears away. She took a pregnancy test back home and her fears were confirmed. She was three months along. Not quite past the time where she would miscarry.

He smoothed her hair, kissing it. "We'll be extremely careful this time, Ophelia. I won't let you lose another baby."

He hated seeing the skepticism in her eyes, knowing she felt his words were empty. He wiped her tears away. "I'll put you in bedrest and have a nurse constantly monitor your condition."

"O-okay." She tried to smile, failing shakily.

"Let's get you home and into bed." He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side. He kept his pace slow, shooting her stomach worried glances out of the corner of his eye. He briefly thought of enlisting Eibon's help, his wisdom would be handy, but was hesitant to bother his old friend.  
The streets of the city were mainly barren, save for a few stragglers heading to the nearby bars. Death blended in with the darkness and no one noticed him and his distraught wife. Ophelia was sniffling softly and he could feel her body tremble against him.

He led her up the stairs of the manor, their home brightly lit. He opened the door for her and she immediately headed for their bedroom. Death closed the door and leaned against it, heaving a sigh. He removed his mask and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine, the pain tapping against his brain. Before taking his medication, he went to their room.

Ophelia had already changed into her pajamas and was pulling the covers back. She sat down and pushed her long hair out of her face before looking at him. "Are you going to come to bed now?"

She knew he didn't sleep, but his presence brought her comfort and she needed that right now. She saw how tense his face was and felt sympathetic. He nodded.

"I'm just going to take my medication and I'll be right there." He left the room.

She lay down and stared up at the alabaster ceiling. She pushed her shirt up past her stomach and rubbed her hand over it once. There was a subtle bump. She rubbed it again and murmured, "Please make it, baby. I want to be a mommy and Death to be a daddy. I don't think either of us can take another loss."

She pretended she felt an affirmed kick. Her lips twitched. "I think you'll be strong."

Ophelia rolled onto her side so she was facing the doorway. She still jumped when Death walked back in, already dressed for bed. His footsteps were silent and he always scared her half to death when he would suddenly just be there. It annoyed her, but she knew he couldn't help it. He turned the lights off and she was temporarily blind. She felt the bed sink with his weight as he got in. She scooted closer to him as his arms wrapped around her waist. Their legs tangled and she rested her forehead against his. His cool breath washed over her face as he exhaled.

"We'll get through this." He promised.

She nodded, her throat suddenly thick. Her eyes adjusted and saw his different colored eyes boring into hers. They were determined and put her at some semblance of ease. He kissed her eyelids, watching them flutter shut.

"Get some rest. I'll still be here when you wake up." He whispered. Ophelia obediently kept her eyes closed. He listened to her breathe, relaxing when her breaths deepened and slowed. When he was certain she was completely asleep, he placed his hand on her stomach, feeling the small bump. He focused on the tiny wavelengths and was relieved when he felt no dysfunction in them. He mentally vowed to ensure they stayed that way.

* * *

Death could feel an eye twitch coming on. His newest Death Scythe, Spirit (who changed his name to Death Scythe), was grinning sheepishly, all the while rubbing the back of his head. Kami stood beside him, looking mortified at having this conversation with Lord Death of all people.

"...Spirit, have you ever heard of protection or were you too busy thinking with your hormones?" His real voice leaked out, causing the two teenagers to flinch.

"I-I've heard of it...just never thought of using it." Spirit admitted.

Death sighed and reached up to touch the sides of his mask. He really wanted to massage his throbbing temples. "And your idea of remedying this situation is eloping and _then_ telling me?"

The newlyweds nodded apprehensively. Kami hid her face behind her hands. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry, Lord Death, I know you're really stressed right now and this couldn't have happened at a worse time, but-"

"Congratulations~!" His entire mood shifted as he sang the word out. The two looked at him in confusion.

"E-erm, aren't you upset with us?" Kami asked.

In truth, he was a bit disappointed; they were so young! However, he knew he could do nothing about it. Besides, with Ophelia due any day, he had much more to worry about than the eloped, expecting teenagers.

"Nope! You are both adults; you can do what you like!" He replied, clapping his hands together.

Kami and Spirit exchanged a bewildered look before she beamed. "Thank you, Lord Death! I'll see you later, Spirit!" She kissed his cheek before running off.

Spirit smiled dreamily and sat down on the platform. Death looked at him, smiling wistfully behind his mask. He thought back of when he and Ophelia were newlyweds and wondered if they both looked how Spirit and Kami do. He knew they certainly acted the same.

"How's Miss Ophelia doing?" Spirit asked, knowing to an extent of Ophelia's troubles with pregnancy.

Death's smile fell. "She's doing alright. The nurse says she and the baby are healthy."

"But...?" Spirit prompted him. Death just stared at him. The redhead cleared his throat. "You sounded like you were going to say more. As your partner, sir, I'm here for you. You can talk to me about it."

Death felt a swell of gratitude toward him. Though he was infuriating at times and made Death feel like bashing his skull in half, Spirit was very perceptive toward other's feelings. It was why he got along so well with Stein; he could neutralize the older boy's insanity with just a few carefully selected words and his wavelength.

"I fear Ophelia's madness. It's been getting larger, especially since she's been pregnant." He quietly acquiesced.

Spirit looked up in thought. "Hmm, maybe Marie can help? Her wavelengths have really been helping Stein; even more than mine ever did!"

Death shook his head. "She and Stein are on a long term mission in Russia. They aren't due back for another two months."

"That's troublesome. I wonder why I haven't seen Stitches around..." Death's mirror suddenly gave a little twang, indicating someone trying to reach him. Spirit stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. Death permitted the call. The face of the nurse staying with Ophelia appeared. Her face was carefully composed, but her eyes gave way to her urgency.

"Lord Death, I'm calling to tell you Lady Ophelia's water broke. She's going into labor."

"I'll be there immediately." He replied quickly, ending the conversation.

He didn't hear Spirit's hasty farewell as he stepped into the mirror. In the mirror world, where he occasionally resided, there were openings all over the world. However, only the ones in Death City were accessible to him. He quickly found the mirror in his library and stepped out, his ears assaulted by Ophelia's pain filled screams and the nurse's calm orders.

He rushed to the bedroom. Beside the nurse was a doctor, both giving instruction to Ophelia, who was thrashing about in the bed, moaning. He went over to her side and pushed her sweaty locks out of her face.

"It's alright now, Ophelia, I'm here." He said quietly.

"Death, this kid is killing me!" She cried, hand scrabbling for his. He let her squeeze until he couldn't feel it anymore as she rode out another contraction.

He focused on her wavelengths. "You'll be fine." He looked at the doctor. "Is she ready to start pushing?"

The doctor shook his head. "She needs to be dilated another two centimeters."

Ophelia gave another cry of despair. Death kissed her forehead and began to murmur encouragingly in her ear, hoping to help ease her mind of the pain.

"Just think, soon, we'll get to meet our son. We'll be parents finally. After so many heartbreaks, you'll have your own little baby. His nursery is ready, her has a soft blanket and a music box to lull him to sleep. He'll call you Mommy and me Daddy."

She whimpered and clung to each of his words, whispering. "A-and he'll look like you and be the greatest Shinigami ever."

Death smiled and nodded. "That's right. But, he'll have your face and beautiful hands."

The doctor checked her. "Alright, she's fully dilated. She can begin pushing."

"Oh, thank god!" Ophelia groaned, letting the nurse adjust her body.

"Alright, push now! 10, 9, 8..." Her face turned red and she exhaled sharply when the nurse said one.

Death's hand was beginning to hurt and his fingers were purple by the end of the fifth time. "I see the head! One more time, Ophelia! 10, 9...!"

Ophelia screamed with the effort and as the nurse counted to the last one, another scream joined hers. It was small and high pitched, but there. Her body went limp and her head fell against the pillows. She shut her eyes, her chest heaving, but a satisfied smile, albeit tired, was present.

"It's a healthy baby boy! Congratulations, Lord and Lady Death!" The nurse and doctor exclaimed. The nurse began to clean the baby up, clipping his umbilical cord.

Death leaned down, moving his mask to the side to kiss Ophelia's sweaty forehead. "You did it...we're parents."

Tears filled her eyes and she opened them. "Where is he? Where's my boy?"

The nurse bundled him up and carefully placed him in Ophelia's arms. He had a tuft of black hair, his golden eyes blinking rapidly. He looked at Ophelia then Death. He made a warbled noise akin to a laugh. Death grinned happily at his son.

"We've been waiting a long time for you, Death the Kid."


	22. Ophelia's Descent

**Roji- We'll see~ but, yeah, it's kind of cliche to have her die during childbirth**

**GigiandMad- OMFG IT WAS NUTS! I AM IN DENIAL! XD Let's just assume Ophelia is doped up with pain killers**

**Kara Black- Nope! she survived! =D**

**Mewtwo3642- Kid is awesome!**

**VioletDawn00- O.O *dies* LUCKY YOU MET JOHN SWASEY! Ahem. Okay, now I'M fangirling, haha. Thanks!**

**Imaginefun- THANK YOU**

**snowcloud8- The long awaited arrival!**

**greetingsfrommars- XD That's very true**

** - I was crying while I was writing it. Dignified, of course!**

**zoany- You'll just have to wait and see!**

**Okay, I'm soooooo sorry I took so long to update! I graduated from high school yesterday and I've been suffering from some major writer's block that I still haven't gotten over T.T So, the chapter might suck. I'll hopefully get back and make some changes once the block leaves me. Anyway...**

**I NO OWN.**

* * *

He sighed heavily as the nightly cries started up. He was grateful he didn't require sleep otherwise he'd probably be passed out with exhaustion, much like Ophelia. She moaned beside him, eyes blinking open blearily. Death was already getting up.

"It's alright, I got him." He whispered. She grunted and was back asleep.

He walked over to the crib and picked up the two month old. Kid cried and kicked his feet while Death glided out of the room to the kitchen. He bounced his son a little and cooed, "Little Kiddo is hungry, huh? Don't you fret; Daddy's gonna feed you!"

Kid's crying turned into sniffles and a little halfhearted cry as Death warmed up one of the pre-made bottles. He tested how warm the formula was on his wrist before sitting down on the chair and holding the bottle up to Kid's mouth. The infant sucked greedily, cooing around the bottle. As he fed his son, Death hummed Kid's favorite lullaby. It promised of a sweet slumber and soft clouds and warm blankets. The lullaby made even Death feel lackadaisical.

Kid stopped feeding and Death removed the bottle from his mouth, placing it on the counter. He gently burped him before returning him to his crib. He watched, smiling, as Kid went back to sleep.

"Good night, Kiddo." He whispered as he left the room, leaving the door open.

He returned to his room. Ophelia was still sleeping deeply, her hair splayed out on her pillow. He quietly sank into his side and rolled onto his back. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly in and out.

He loved the calmness of night. All around him, he felt the inhabitants of the city wavelengths thrum peacefully as they slumbered. None were quite as sweet as Ophelia's and Kid's, however. Especially Kid's; his were so pure. Ophelia's were nice, but not pure. The felt strange as of late.

As though affirming his worry, a particularly nasty shiver rippled through her wavelengths. Death opened his eyes and glanced concernedly at her. She didn't move, her sides moving with each deep breath. Timidly, he reached out for her wavelengths, studying them. There was another shiver, more tainted than the last. The spot of madness had increased, too. Death chewed his lip anxiously. He hoped no one else had felt it.

"How are you feeling~?" He asked the next morning, smiling happily at her.

She had large bruises beneath her eyes from lack of sleep the past couple months. She looked exhausted, but she still smiled just as exuberantly as always.

"I'm doing alright. I think I'll work in the garden today. The weeds are starting to get troublesome." She mused, slipping the spoon of mashed carrots into Kid's waiting mouth.

"Good! I'll be at the school if you need anything." He kissed her and Kid.

Before leaving for the school, Death went to his library. He closed the door behind him and stood before his mirror, mask in place. Stein appeared in his mirror's reflection, nodding his head at him.

"You needed me, sir?" Stein queried, pushing his glasses up.

"I would like for you to maintain an eye on Ophelia for me today." He said in a hushed tone. "Do not let her see you. If she acts...peculiar, please contact me right away."

Stein gave him a little salute. "Right away." His reflection warbled until it was Death's own reflection staring at him.

He rubbed his mask's forehead as though it would help alleviate his beginning headache before stepping into the mirror. His mirror world was black as usual, the many openings spinning around him. The one to the academy floated idly past him and he stepped through.

Spirit was already waiting for him, grinning widely. Death tilted his head to the side childishly. "What's got you so happy, hmm? Did Kami have the baby?"

Spirit all but bursted as he answered. "YES! It's a little girl! We named her Maka; she's sooo cute~! I'll bring her in for you to meet her when she's a little older. She's with her mama right now."

Death chuckled and held his hand up for a high five, which Spirit gave enthusiastically. "Congratulations! I know you and Kami will be amazing parents!"

"Thank you, sir." His young partner glowed with the compliment.

Death thought of Kid and wondered if he and Maka would ever meet. It would be interesting if they were to become friends. If Maka was a weapon like her father, she could become his son's weapon partner! The idea made Death quiver with excitement and he wished they were older.

His mirror gave a twang, snapping him out of his daydream. He accepted the call and, to his dismay, it was Stein.

"Meister Stein reporting." He announced. Death waved his hand impatiently. There was a crash behind Stein, causing Death to cringe.

"Mrs. Ophelia has become unstable. Marie is attempting to soothe her right now, but I think it would be best if you-" Death ended the call and looked at Spirit, who had been listening.

"...Let's go, Spirit." Spirit changed into his weapon form. Death grabbed him and went into his mirror.

As he stepped into his library, he felt the heavy wavelengths. They were almost unrecognizable.

"Ugh, is this what madness feels like?" Spirit asked rhetorically, his reflection showing his discomfort.

Death followed the wavelengths to Kid's room. He could hear his son crying as well as Marie's soothing voice. Stein was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. The madness was getting to him, Death realized.

"Stein, you can leave. I won't let anything happen to Marie." He promised.

Stein looked up at him, sweating, but complied wordlessly. He slumped down the hall toward the front door. Death took a deep breath and stepped into the doorway, his heart pounding at the sight.

Ophelia was clutching Kid, most likely too tightly based on his cries. Her eyes were wild and red. Marie was standing a couple feet in front of her, hands outstretched. Her healing wavelength wasn't activated, but her voice held the healing properties, though it seemed to do little to comfort Ophelia.

Both women's eyes snapped to him when they heard him. Marie looked relieved whereas Ophelia's eyes narrowed.

"How long has she been like this?" He asked Marie.

"Um, for at least ten minutes, I think. We felt one wavelength and thought it would go away, but it didn't. Then, she started holding Kid like she was trying to crush him." Marie answered, eyes flitting nervously to Ophelia.

Death nodded and turned to Ophelia. Kid was crying and reaching out for him, his little face red and wet. "Ophelia...you're hurting him."

"So what? I've not slept in months since I had him." She spat, glaring hatefully at her son. She must have tightened her grip because Kid's cries began to border on hysteric.

This wasn't her. She loved Kid, she had gone through so much to have him! "I know you don't mean that. Give him to me and then I can help you calm down." He took a step toward her.

She crushed Kid to her chest, hopping back some. "Don't come near me! You're going to slice me up with that pretty scythe, aren't you?"

Death froze and threw Spirit away, ignoring his partner's protest. "I'm not going to hurt you, Ophelia."_ I can't._ "Please, give me Kid. Don't hurt him anymore."

She looked like she was contemplating his request, her grip slackening on Kid. He held his hands out to grab his son when she suddenly smirked widely. She tossed Kid aside and sprang at Death.

_No, don't make me! Don't make me do it, Ophelia!_ Death outstretched his arms, his shadows rushing to Kid. Marie beat them, grabbing Kid and cradling him to her chest. She looked up and shouted worriedly, "Lord Death!"

Death shut his eyes and pleaded, "Don't make me do it, Ophelia!


End file.
